


Never Miss A Beat

by theflyinganonymouse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, basically everything is a mess, school!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflyinganonymouse/pseuds/theflyinganonymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles hated school. He hated the lessons, the teachers and the other kids. And he definitely hated that new blonde kid.</p>
<p>Or the one where Louis and Zayn are teachers. Niall and Harry are troubled teens and Liam just wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally on my tumblr theflyinganonymouse. You can find more fics there.

 They knocked on the door before entering, not giving any more warning but that.

 They knew that they were expected.

 “Zayn, Louis, come in and take a seat.”

 Louis, who was the last into the room, closed the door behind them and then sat in seat next to Zayn in front of Simon’s desk.

 “Thanks for coming in early this morning, I wanted to talk to you before the rest of the staff got in.”

 Zayn and Louis shared a questioning glance and Zayn said, “it’s no problem, Simon. What do you need us for? Harry hasn’t gotten in trouble again, has he?”

 “No, this isn’t about Harry.” Simon gave them a tight-lipped smile and handed them both thick, identical folders. “We’re getting a new pupil on Monday, he’s just moved into the area from Birmingham.”

 “Okay…” Louis said, slowly, flipping the folder open.

 “We’re a month into the new school year, it’s a bit of an awkward time.” Zayn frowned, not looking at the folder in his hands. “Did he really just move into the area or-?”

 “He wasn’t expelled.” Simon answered his unspoken question.

 “Not from that school.” Louis said, his eyebrows knit together in concentration as he read. “But the two before that- and in less than a year, too!”

 “Yes, but-.”

 Louis was turning the pages at a quicker pace now, “they’re not the only ones. Bloody hell, Simon, this kid hasn’t stayed in one school for longer than a year since he was five.”

 “What year is he?” Zayn asked.

“Year 11.”

 Zayn’s eyebrows shot up as he realised the real reason they were here, “you want to put him into my form.”

 It wasn’t a question.

 Simon nodded.

 “Why? Don’t you think it’d be better to put him into another form group? It’d be fairer on him, on the other kids.”

 There was a slight pause while Simon thought over his response.

 Then Louis let out a little gasp.

 “There aren’t enough support staff.” He said as the reason for his presence at the meeting became apparent. “That’s why you want to put him into Zayn’s form because I’m already there for Harry.”

 Simon nodded again and adjusted his reading glasses, “I know it’s a little unorthodox but I really think we’re the last chance this kid has got.”

 Zayn sighed in way that let Simon know he had won, he was really a softie at heart, “what are we talking about here? What do we have to expect- is he violent?”

 “Not usually, no. There have been some incidents of violence but from what I’ve read in his records they were provoked and very out of character. Most of his exclusions and suspensions have been because of disruptive behaviour and acting out.” Simon told them, truthfully, pleased that at least Zayn seemed more receptive to the idea than he originally thought he would be.

 “ADHD, communication problems, reading ability of an eight year old…how are we expected to be able to cope with this on top of trying to keep Harry under control?” Louis asked, reading from the folder, not as easily convinced as Zayn. “He’s a handful at the best of times and I don’t think he’s going to take having to share me with someone else well.”

 “You’ve both done such an excellent job with Harry over the last two years and he’s improved so much…” Simon shrugged. “But, he’s just going to have to learn to share.”

 “It isn’t that easy.” Louis tried to stress.

 “I’m sorry, Louis, we don’t really have any option.” Simon told him. “I know this is going to be a lot of extra work for you, that’s why I’ve decided to give your year 8 extra English lessons to another teacher.”

 “Really?” Louis brightened at that, not being particularly fond of that class.

 Simon nodded and looked at his watch, “we haven’t got much time before the bell rings, could you both stop by my office again at lunch time? Our new student will be coming to visit the school, along with his Dad, and I think it’d be really nice if he got a chance to meet you before he gets thrown into school on Monday.”

 Zayn looked at his watch as well, “yeah, no problem, we better get off.”

 Simon nodded, they said their goodbyes and Zayn and Louis left.

 Once they were halfway to the English department, Louis let out a long sigh, “well, this is just great.”

 “There’s not much we can do about it.” Zayn shrugged. “You never know, he might not even be that bad.”

 “You haven’t looked at his file.” Louis said. “But it’s not that, I don’t resent the kid coming here, not at all, it’s a good school, but all the progress I’ve made with Harry…I’ve worked so hard with him to get him to where he is now.”

 “I know, Lou.” Zayn patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, “but there really is nothing we can do about it. You never know, Harry might surprise us.”

 -

 Harry Styles hated school.

 He hated the lessons.

 He hated the others kids.

 He hated the teachers.

 None of them were interested in him, none of them cared about him.

 They all just thought he was a fuck-up.

 Beyond hope.

 A distraction.

 And so what if he didn’t pay attention in lessons?

 They were boring, the teachers talked shit, expecting things from him when he really had nothing to give, because, really? Did they expect him to pay attention to this crap?

 He didn’t need to know about physics or history or German, why did they want him to learn about this stuff?

Harry just wasn’t interested.

 So, maybe that was why he liked to act out, to get into fights with the other kids and wind the teachers up until they snapped and sent him to Mr Cowell’s office.

 That was probably why he’d had a support teacher follow him around to all his lessons for the last two years.

 Mr Tomlinson was alright, Harry supposed, for a teacher.

 He was younger than a lot of the other staff, him and Mr Malik, Harry’s form tutor, were probably the youngest people working at the school by at least 20 years, and he let Harry swear and get away with a lot more than anyone else did.  

 He didn’t really seem to care that Harry didn’t get everything right or that he got bored easily or that he couldn’t really concentrate on anything for very long.

 ‘As long as you try your best and you’re happy with the work that you’ve done,’ Mr Tomlinson always said to him, ‘then I’m happy.’

 He never pushed Harry further than he was willing to go and he understood that Harry found things difficult, more difficult than the other kids in his class, and that was why he tended to act out sometimes.

 Mr Tomlinson didn’t really let it get that far anymore, though.

 He always listened to what Harry had to say and would work through his problems – school or otherwise – with him and kept Harry calmer than he had been in years.

 Calmer than the medication kept him.

 And he kind of trusted Mr Tomlinson which was odd for Harry as he didn’t really trust anyone. Not even his own mother.

 That was probably why Harry reacted the way he did when he arrived in tutorial on Monday morning, six minutes after the bell had rung, and found a boy he didn’t recognise sat in his usual seat next to Mr Tomlinson.

 “Who the fuck are you?” Harry shouted as he marched across the classroom, ignoring the startled looks of his classmates. “What are you doing in my seat?”

 “Harry!” Mr Malik called and he moved to Harry’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, mate, chill out.”

 Harry shook Mr Malik’s hand from his shoulder and drew up a fist to punch the blonde - because that was  _his_  seat and  _nobody_  took what was his – and the other boy didn’t even try and duck away as Harry’s punch landed squarely on his jaw.

 Instead, as soon as Harry’s fist made contact, he sprung to his feet and tried to launch himself at Harry but was stopped by Mr Tomlinson pulling him back into his seat by his jumper.

 “Don’t.” Mr Tomlinson said, firmly, and Harry thought that he might look disappointed.

 But Harry didn’t care.

 He didn’t.

 This was all Mr Tomlinson’s fault anyway.

 How dare he let someone else sit in Harry’s seat?

 “That behaviour is absolutely unacceptable, Harry, you know I don’t tolerate violence in my classroom.” Mr Malik said, sharply. “I think you better go to Mr Cowell’s office.”

 Harry kicked out at a table and pushed the pencil case and books of one of his classmates onto the floor before storming from the room, shouting swearwords.

 They only grew louder when he realised Mr Tomlinson wasn’t following him like he usually would.

 Harry Styles had thought he hated school but now he knew that wasn’t true.

 That hadn’t been hate.

 But what he felt for this new kid, the one who had dared to sit in his seat, this was pure hatred.

 He was going to make him pay.

-

 Despite what everybody said, Niall wasn’t stupid.

 He might not be able to read that well or even understand half of the stuff that went on during lessons but he wasn’t stupid.

 He knew he had pissed that other kid off.

 Niall wasn’t sure how because Mr Tomlinson had said it was okay for him sit where he had, hadn’t said anything about the place belonging to anyone else, but he knew he was in trouble.

 The other kid - Harry, that was what Mr Malik had called him – was bigger than Niall, better built, and when he had hit Niall it had hurt.

 Not as badly as when his Dad hit him but it was still painful.

 He had wanted to fight back and show Harry that he wasn’t someone to be messed with because that was what you were meant to do when you started at a new school, show you were tough and the other kids would leave you alone.

 It had worked out for Niall a few times in the past.

 But, Mr Tomlinson hadn’t let him. He had just pulled him back down into his seat and told him not to and Niall had done as he was told.

 He didn’t want to get into trouble at his new school already.

 “-you okay, Niall?”

 “Huh?” He asked, blinking.

 “I asked if you were okay.” Mr Tomlinson asked him. “I don’t need to take you to the office, do I?”

 Niall laughed because, yeah, when Harry had hit him it had hurt but it was nothing compared to what he had suffered in the past, “yeah, I’m fine, sir.”

 “Harry shouldn’t have acted the way he did, I’m very sorry that he hit you.” Mr Tomlinson said.

 “Am I sat in his seat?” Niall asked.

 Mr Tomlinson frowned, “Harry usually sits here but that’s no- what are you doing?”

 Niall shrugged as he stood and picked his things up and moved to another desk at the other side of the classroom.

 “Niall.” Mr Malik said, looking up from the announcement he was reading to the rest of the class. “Go back to your seat, please.”

 “No.” Niall said.

 Mr Malik’s eyebrows shot up, “No?”

 “No.” Niall repeated. “It’s not my seat. I’m not going to sit there.”

 Because if Niall had learnt anything from school, it was that you didn’t take what belonged to others.

 The bell rung then, signalling the end of tutorial and the beginning of first lesson.

 “Can I have a quick word with you, Niall?” Mr Malik asked over the noise of the other students packing their things away and leaving the room.

 Niall groaned.

 He was in trouble.  

 He knew that because the teachers only ever wanted to talk to him when he had done something wrong.

 He dumped his pen and his planner into his old, scruffy backpack and reluctantly made his way to the front of the room.

 “Yes, sir?”

 “I just wanted you to know that I’m going to go speak to Harry now and that he is going to be properly punished for what he did, okay?”

 Niall shrugged.

 “Violence is not tolerated in this school.” Mr Malik told him.

 “Can I go now?” Niall asked.

 Mr Malik sighed, “Mr Tomlinson is going to be with you in all your lessons, he’s there to help you. If you have any problems or any questions then you can always talk to either myself or him, okay?”

 Niall shrugged again, “I’m going to be late.”

 “Okay, Niall, you can go.” Mr Malik said with a soft smile. “Have a good first day, okay?”

 Niall nodded and looked anywhere but at Mr Malik, suddenly feeling shy at the unexpected kindness.

 “Come on, Niall.” Mr Tomlinson said from where he was stood in the doorway, waiting for him. “Maths first.”

 Niall let out a groan but followed Mr Tomlinson without any further complaint.  

 He knew he had gotten away lightly.

-

 By the time that 3 o’clock arrived Louis found himself pleasantly surprised at how well the day had gone.

 Apart from the incident with Harry first thing that morning, there hadn’t really been anymore drama.

 Niall was actually a really sweet kid once his nerves had started to slip away, full of smiles and always laughing at something and most of the other kids had quickly warmed to him.

 They were impressed by the way he had acted in tutorial and were obsessed with his Irish accent and wanted to know about all the different schools he had been to and all the other cities he had lived in.

 And, from what Louis had seen, Niall had been happy to indulge them, enjoying the attention.

 Some of the snottier kids hadn’t given Niall the time of day, looking down their noses at his faded and tatty jumper (a navy as opposed to the school’s proper colour of black), his shoes that looked like they were ready to fall apart at any moment and his ancient and untrendy backpack, writing him off as just another poor kid who was there to disrupt their lessons and cause trouble.

And maybe he hadn’t actually done any work that day, had spent more time fidgeting and chatting and staring off into space, but he had hardly been disruptive.

 Not like Harry could be.

 But Louis was aware that it was his first day and he was probably trying to behave himself, not wanting to get into trouble so early on.

 He knew that the real Niall would come out in the next couple of weeks.

 He just prayed that he wouldn’t change too much as he got settled.

 “How was it?” Zayn asked him when Louis joined him in the staff room at the end of the day.

 “Yeah, it was alright. A lot better than expected, actually.” Louis said, smiling brightly. “He’s a nice kid, very friendly and open. I think he had told me his whole life story by the time we got to third period.”

“No problems?”

 “Not really. He refused to sit in Harry’s seat in any of his lessons and he was a bit chatty but nothing major.” Louis told him. “He has the attention span of a goldfish, though, trying to get him to concentrate on anything was a challenge.”

 “Probably just excited.” Zayn said with a relieved smile. “He’ll settle down in a few days.”

 “I hope so.” Louis replied, going to his pigeon hole and rifling through the papers there. “What happened with Harry?”

 “Suspended for three days and then he’s in isolation for the rest of the week when he gets back.”

 “Poor git.” Louis said with a sigh. “He hates it in there.”

 “I know but he knows the rules. He can’t just fly off the handle and hit another student and get away with it.” Zayn was pulling on his jacket now, finally ready to leave. “But it just sucks so much, you know? Just when we were finally making progress.”

 “I know but Simon was right, he’s just going to have to grow up and learn to share. I don’t belong to him, no matter how much he likes to think of me as his.” Louis retrieved his own coat. “This might be good for him in the long run, he’s doing his GCSEs this year, maybe this’ll be the kick that he needs.”

 “Maybe.” Zayn agreed. “Do you need a lift home?”

 “I was hoping you’d ask.” Louis grinned, fluttering his eyelashes at Zayn.

  Zayn snorted, “you’re such an idiot, come on.”

-

 The door creaked open.

 Niall paused in the doorway with wide eyes and waited.

 And waited.

 Finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime, he slowly let out the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding and tiptoed into the tiny studio flat he shared with his Dad.

 He dropped his schoolbag onto the sofa which also doubled as his bed and kicked off his shoes, planning on getting changed before disappearing from the flat for the rest of the evening or at least until he knew his Dad had started work in the pub across the road.

 He didn’t want to risk having to speak to the older man.

 Not when his face was bruised, making it look like he had been fighting.

 But then he heard the key in the lock.

 His breath caught in throat and he shrunk into himself.

 Niall wasn’t stupid.

 He knew what was coming.


	2. Chapter Two

 Liam was a good student.

 Very bright, involved in sports and always willing to help the teachers out when they needed a hand.

 He had never been in trouble and had a small group of close friends who were very similar to him.

 Quiet, friendly, hardworking and responsible.

 Generally a pleasure to have in lessons.

More than one teacher had told him how glad they were that he’d decided to stay on at the school’s sixth form to do his A-Levels rather than going to college like a lot of the other kids in his year had.

 Liam was just pleased that he had made them happy.

 His favourite of the four subjects he had chosen for AS was English but that was probably only because of the teacher.

 Mr Malik had started at the school when Liam was in year 8 and had quickly become a favourite among the students.

 He was laid back, never patronised anyone and treated every student with the same respect that they showed him.

 It also helped that he was hot.

 Well.

 It helped that the girls thought that he was hot.

 Because Liam didn’t think about his teacher – or any other guy – that way, thank you very much.

 Still, he’d do pretty much anything that Mr Malik asked him to because Liam was a good guy and he liked to make people happy when he could.

 That was why he found himself knocking on the door to the staff room at lunchtime on Friday, just like Mr Malik had asked him to that morning during his English lesson.

 “Mr Malik wanted to see me, sir.” Liam told the science teacher who answered the door when questioned why he was there.

 “I’ll go get him for you.” The science teacher said to him, giving Liam a kind smile.

 Liam had been one of his best pupils last year.

 “No need.” Mr Malik said, appearing in the doorway behind the science teacher. “I’m here.”

 “It was nice seeing you again, Liam.” The science teacher told him before shooting him a wicked grin. “If you ever decide that English isn’t challenging you enough then there’s always a spot open for you in my class.”

 “Get stuffed, Steve.” Mr Malik joked. “He’s mine.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind.” Liam told the science teacher as Mr Malik began to lead him away from the staff room.

 “Hey!” Mr Malik said, taking a bite out of the apple he held in his hand. “Don’t encourage him.”

 Liam had never been down the corridor Mr Malik was taking him down but he had heard about it.

 This was the part of the school where the naughty kids came when they had to be put into isolation or taken from their normal lessons when they were causing too much trouble.

 “Why-?” Liam started but then Mr Malik came to a stop outside one of the rooms and set about looking for the right key on the bunch he had pulled from his trouser pocket.

 Liam frowned.

 On the door there was an A4 sign decorated in bright colours that declared, in bold lettering, that this room was for ‘extra English’.

 The inside of the room didn’t look too much different from other classrooms in the school apart from it was smaller, clearly designed for no more than twelve students, and boards around the room were filled with more basic things than were found in the rest of the school, stuff like the alphabet and pictures of animals with their names spelled out clearly underneath, and it kind of reminded Liam of his classroom at primary school.

 “Come in and take a seat.” Mr Malik said, pulling two of the chairs at the desk in front of the teacher’s table so that they faced one another instead of looking forward.

 Liam took the seat closest to the door and Mr Malik sat in the other, taking another bite from his apple.

 He watched and chewed as Liam looked around the room with wide eyes, trying to take as much of it in as possible.

 “How are you finding life in the sixth form?” Mr Malik asked after a minute. “Do you like it?”

 “Yeah.” Liam smiled, bringing his gaze back to the teacher in front of him. “I really like it. I know it’s only been a month but it already feels a lot different from GCSEs, it’s more challenging, you know? And the teachers treat you more like adults.”

 “That’s good.” Mr Malik shared his smile and then added. “Class sizes are smaller, too.”

 Liam nodded, “yeah, that helps. Everyone who’s there is there because they want to be- it makes everything a lot more enjoyable, we’re all on the same wavelength, if you get me.”

 “Yeah, I get you. I’m glad you’re enjoying it so much, you seem to have really settled in.” Mr Malik put his half-eaten apple on the desk. “A lot of people struggle with the gap between GCSE and AS but you’ve really taken to it, especially in English. Have you given any thought to what you want to do once you’ve finished at school?”

 “When I was growing up all I wanted to be was a fireman but now…I think I want to go to uni, maybe study English. I’m not too sure yet.”

 “You’re definitely smart enough for it.” Mr Malik told him, honestly. “I could see a lot of universities being interested in having you.”

 Liam blushed, “I hope so.”

 “If you need a reference or help with your personal statement next year then I’m more than happy to help.”

 “Thanks, sir.”

 “Don’t thank me, I haven’t done anything yet.” Mr Malik teased and then his face became serious. “You’re probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you.”

 Liam nodded.

 “Before I start I want to make it clear that you can always say no and that I’m in no way forcing you to do this.”

 “Okay…” Liam frowned, wondering what the teacher could want from him.

 “I have a boy in my form group who is really struggling with his English work.” Mr Malik said, slowly. “His reading ability is far behind what it should be and it’s affecting all of his lessons. I was hoping that, maybe, you’d consider sitting with him a couple of lunchtimes a week or maybe after school, whenever suits you best, and help him with his homework, perhaps do some reading with him.”

 Liam’s frown grew more pronounced, “it’s not Harry Styles is it, sir?”

 Harry Styles was famous throughout the school for his bad behaviour and Liam wasn’t quite sure he felt comfortable with the idea of sitting in the same room as him and trying to work with him.

 He’d seen some of the kids who Harry had fought with and Liam really didn’t want to end up with the same bloody and battered face.

 “No, it’s not Harry.” Mr Malik gave him a smile that Liam couldn’t quite read. “I wouldn’t ask you to work with him. He can be…difficult. No, it’s not Harry.”

 Liam gave him a questioning glance.

 “I have a new boy in my form, he started on Monday. You might have seen him in the corridors with Mr Tomlinson.”  

 Liam searched his brain, trying to work out who Mr Malik was talking about, “the little blonde one?”

 “Yeah, that’s Niall.” Mr Malik said. “He’s a very sweet boy, probably a bit too gobby for his own good but he wouldn’t cause you too many problems.”

 “Has he asked for extra help?”

 “No. I wanted to talk to you about this first before I brought it up with him.” Mr Malik gave him a small shrug of the shoulders. “I didn’t want to guilt you into it if you didn’t want to do it.”

 “I’ll have to think about it.” Liam said. “What with running and stuff.”

 “I forgot about that.” Mr Malik told him. “When do you have training?”

 “Tuesdays and Thursdays after school.”

 Mr Malik nodded, “well, it was just a thought.”

 “I’ll think about it.” Liam told him. “I’ll let you know on Monday, yeah?”

 Mr Malik smiled, “yeah, that’d be great. Cheers, Liam.”

-

 Harry made sure he was on time for tutorial on Monday, stalking into the room just as the bell went.

 “Well, this is a surprise, Harry.” Mr Malik said from his seat at his desk. “I don’t think you’ve been on time to tutorial since year 7.”

 Harry ignored him.

 Screw Mr Malik.

 He had let Harry get suspended and then put in isolation last week without even trying to help him.

 He threw his bag onto the table where he usually sat, beside Mr Tomlinson, and grunted something incomprehensible at his teacher.

 “Y’alright, Harry?” A thickly accented voice called him from across the room and Harry immediately turned to see who was talking to him.

 None of the other kids ever talked to him.

 They were all too frightened.

 It was the blonde kid, the one who had dared to sit in his seat last week, the one who had gotten him into so much trouble.

 Just who did he think he was?

 How  _dare_  he talk to Harry?

 Didn’t he know who Harry Styles was?

 Harry stormed across the classroom to him and grabbed him by the front of his jumper, pulling him to his feet, and growled, “don’t fucking talk to me, you prick.”

 The blonde boy just laughed and Harry thought he saw red.

 He pushed the other boy backwards, making him stumble into his chair and knock it over, and raised his fist, ready to punch the boy’s crooked teeth from his mouth, but someone tugged his arm back down to his side.

 “Come on, Harry. Let’s go for a walk and calm down before first lesson, okay?” Mr Tomlinson said. “Go get your bag.”

 Harry seethed and considered ignoring Mr Tomlinson but decided against it at the last second.

 He marched back to his desk and picked up his backpack, pulling it on, angrily, before walking back to the still standing blonde boy and sticking a finger into his chest.

 “I’m going to make your life hell.” He promised.

 The blonde boy just snorted, “get over yourself, man.”

 “Harry.” Mr Tomlinson warned and Harry swore and followed him from the room.

 “I hate that kid.” Harry said once they were out in the hallway. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

 “I don’t think Niall has done anything for you to hate him.” Mr Tomlinson told him.

 “He got me suspended.”

 “No, you got yourself suspended.”

 “He was sat in my seat.”

 “You don’t hit somebody because of that.”

 “It’s mine.”

 “And I said he could sit there.”

 “Why? You know that’s where I sit. I always sit there, why did you let him steal my seat?”

 “Harry…” Mr Tomlinson let out a long sigh.

 They were in the quad now and the early October wind pulled at Harry’s curls but he ignored it.

 “You’re going to finish school this year, Harry.” Mr Tomlinson said to him. “You’re going to have to get a job or go to college or whatever and you’re going to have to learn that you can’t act the way like you do now. If you had done what you did at work then you could have gotten into trouble with the police or even been fired.”

 “So?”

 “I’m not trying to lecture you, Harry, I’m treating you like an adult. I just…I think you need to start thinking about what you do before you act.” Mr Tomlinson said. “You can be really good when you try and if you work as hard as I know you can this year then you’re going to leave school with some GCSEs.”

 “Not any passes.”

 “In maths you might.”

 Harry scowled, “no, I won’t.”

 Mr Tomlinson shook his head, “you’re really good at maths. Mr James was talking to me about you in the staff room this morning and - I don’t think I should be telling you this, but – he’s thinking about putting you in for the higher paper.”

 “Really?”

 Mr Tomlinson smiled and nodded, “yeah. Isn’t that good?”

 Harry’s scowl wobbled and he tried to fight the grin that was working its way onto his face.  

 “It’s alright to be pleased with yourself, you know.” Mr Tomlinson told him. “You’ve worked really hard the past couple of years, you should be proud of yourself.”

 The grin finally won out and, for the first time in a long time, Harry didn’t feel angry.

 “My Mum’ll be happy.” He said.

 “She will.” Mr Tomlinson agreed. “Now, think, if you worked as hard as you did in maths in your other subjects then you’d be laughing.”

 “Do you- do you think I could get a C in English?”

 “Honestly?”

 Harry nodded.

 “If you worked as hard as you could then, yeah, I think I think there’s a possibility.”

 The bell rung then and they started towards the maths block.

 When they reached the door to Harry’s classroom Mr Tomlinson stopped, “I’m not going to come to maths with you anymore, Harry.”

 Harry’s eyes widened.

 “You don’t need me there with you, you’re better at maths than I am.”

 “Where are you going instead?” Harry asked.

 “I’m going to sit with Niall in the bottom set.” Mr Tomlinson said with a small shrug. “He needs my help more than you do.”

 Harry glared at him.

 The anger was back.

-

 “Kill me now.” Zayn said, rubbing his eyes.

 Louis collapsed down onto the chair next to him, “get in line.”

 “How is it only Monday?” Zayn moaned. “And not even the end of Monday.”

 “Only one more lesson left.” Louis gave him a tired smile and rooted around in his bag for the sandwiches he had prepared that morning. “Thank God.”

 “How’s it going with having Harry back?” Zayn asked, unwrapping his own tinfoil covered sandwiches.

 “Pretty shit.” Louis answered, bluntly. “I’ve managed to get most of the teachers to change their seating plans so the three of us are sat at a double desk at the back and, Jesus, it’s like having the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other.”

 Zayn raised an eyebrow at him.

 “Well, maybe not devil, that’s a little harsh. And definitely not angel.” Louis said. “I don’t actually think I’ve seen Niall write anything yet. Not even his name on the front of his exercise books.”

 “Nothing at all? This is his second week.”

 “I know… Last week I thought it was because he was nervous, you know? He was really bouncy and wouldn’t concentrate on anything, never mind keep his mouth closed for longer than five minutes, but I’d thought he’d have settled down a bit by now, especially as nothing is as new as it was.”

 “What about in extra English?”

 “That’s about trying to get them to read more than anything else.” Louis frowned. “I gave them a short reading comprehension to do on Friday and said it had to be finished for tomorrow’s lesson but God knows if I’ll get anything back, he hasn’t done any homework so far.”

 “So, we’ve got to ask ourselves the question: is he just very lazy or can he not read at all?”

 “I think so.” Louis frowned as he chewed on his sandwich. “I’m leaning more towards the former at the moment. I think we need to talk to his Dad about the medication for his ADHD, too, because whatever he’s on isn’t really helping.”

 Zayn pulled his diary and a pen out of his bag and made a note, “I’ll phone him tomorrow in my free and see what he has to say.”

 There was a pause in conversation then as they finished their sandwiches and they let the numerous conversations of the staff room fill the void their speech left.

 “How’s Harry with him?” Zayn asked.

 “Hates his guts.” Louis answered simply.

 “Great.”

 “Yeah, you can imagine how much fun I’ve had today.” Louis replied, flatly.

 Zayn laughed and Louis pouted and elbowed him in the ribs, “it’s not funny!”

 “I know, I shouldn’t laugh.”

 “No, you shouldn’t.” Louis agreed.

 “Hey, Zayn.” One of the other teachers broke in. “There’s a kid at the door for you.”

 “No rest for the wicked.” Zayn quipped and pulled himself out of his chair.

 Louis snorted but didn’t say anything and instead opened the packet of crisps he had just fished out of his bag and leafed through his diary until Zayn returned.

 “Well, that’s good news.” Zayn said, giving Louis a wide smile.

 Louis just raised an eyebrow at him.

 Zayn shook his head and laughed, “Liam Payne, one of my sixth formers, has agreed to sit with Niall a couple of lunchtimes a week and help him with his homework.”

 It was Louis’ turn to laugh, “I hope you’ve let him know what he’s getting himself in for.”


	3. Chapter Three

There were only six students in Louis’ year 11 extra English class but that didn’t mean that they were an easy group to teach.

 Especially not with Harry, and now Niall, in that class.

 “Did everyone do their homework?” Louis asked once the bell had rung and everyone was sat behind their separate desks.

 Nobody said anything and Louis forced himself to smile, “okay, so let me rephrase that slightly: who  _has_  done their homework?”

 “I’ve done most of it.” The biggest boy, both height and weight-wise, said.

 “Alright, Kieran, what haven’t you done?”

 “The last two questions.”

 “Yeah.” Another of the boys, Luke, agreed. “They were too hard, sir.”

 “But everyone has done the other questions?”

 There were grumbled agreements from four of the boys.

 “Harry?” Louis asked.

 “I did it all, look if you don’t believe me.” Harry said with a scowl, holding up his exercise book at the page he had done the work.

 “I’ll be collecting everyone’s books in at the end of the lesson to check.” Louis told him. “But good work, Harry.”

 He then turned his gaze on the small blonde at the back of the class, “Niall? How much have you done?”

 The blonde continued to stare off into space as if he hadn’t heard.

 “Niall?” Louis repeated.

 Harry, who was sat at the table in front of the Irish boy, swivelled in his seat and slammed his hands down onto Niall’s desk and shouted, “oi, dickhead! Sir’s talking to you!”

 Louis was expecting Niall to jump, maybe swear and lash out at Harry or, more likely, laugh at him and shrug the whole thing off.

 What he didn’t expect was for Niall to  _flinch_  away from the noise and curl up into himself, eyes wide and frightened.

 “Sir asked you a question!” Harry said, loudly. “Answer him, retard.”

 “Wh- what?”

 Louis frowned disapprovingly at Harry but let it slide, “have you done your homework, Niall?”

“Homework?”

 “The reading comprehension.” Louis said, holding up the sheet with the text and the questions on it. “Did you do it?”

 “Oh,  _that_.” Niall seemed to have recovered himself. “No, I didn’t.”

 “Why not?”

 He shrugged, “I didn’t want to.”

 There were sniggers from all the other boys but Harry.

 “That’s not an excuse, Niall.” Louis said with a small sigh.

 “It wasn’t meant to be.” Niall smiled at him.

 Louis shook his head and turned back to the board and set about explaining what they were going to do that lesson. There were groans and complaints but Louis managed to get the class working without too much hassle.

 He went from boy to boy, looking over their shoulders and reading their work, pointing out their mistakes and helping them to find the solutions, before he finally came to Niall.

 He frowned when he saw that Niall’s exercise book was completely empty, despite the fact that this was his third lesson of extra English, and he sat down in the seat next to the blonde.

 He pulled the exercise book from in front of Niall and leafed through the empty pages before closing it and looking at the blank cover.

 “You haven’t even written your name on the front.”

 Niall shrugged and looked away.

 “This is your book, Niall,  _yours_. You need to write your name on it in case you lose it.”

 “I won’t lose it.” Niall told him, sharply. “I don’t lose things.”

 “Okay then, in case  _I_  lose it.”

 “Teachers don’t lose things.”

 “They do.” Louis told him. “We’re human, too.”

 Niall still refused to look at him but he picked up his pen and slid his exercise book across the table so that it was sat in front of him. He picked up the pen in his right hand, holding it in an awkward grip, and wrote his name messily on the front.

 Louis saw that he had gotten the ‘i’ and the ‘a’ in his first name mixed up but he chose not to say anything, “do you always write with your right hand?”

 “Everyone writes with their right hand.” Niall said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 “Humour me.” Louis said after a quick glance around the room and seeing that none of the other boys were left handed. He opened Niall’s exercise book to the first page, “try it with your left hand.”

 “What should I write?” Niall asked, swapping the pen to his left hand with a disbelieving look on his face.

 “Just write your name a couple of times, see how it feels.”

 Niall did as he was told and wrote his name three times.

  _Niall Horan.  Nial Horan. Niall Horen._

 A smile lit up his face and he let out a surprised laugh.

 “Does that feel better?” Louis asked, sharing his smile, though the writing was still messy.

 “I always wondered why people found writing so easy.” He said and then his smile faltered, “but, doesn’t this make me a freak? Normal people don’t write with their left hand.”

 “There are a lot of people who write with their left hand, it’s perfectly normal.” Louis tried to assure him.

 “Yeah? Like who?”

 Louis floundered for a moment, “Mr… Mr Barnes from science, he’s left handed.”

 “He’s a teacher.”

 “Okay…”

 “Eminem’s a lefty, sir.” Jamie, the boy sat at the desk to their right, said. “And he’s cool.”

 “Shouldn’t you be doing work?” Louis asked but he smiled at the boy. He turned his attention back to Niall, “I’m sure if you look it up online when you get home you’ll find that there are loads of famous people who are left handed.”

 Niall nodded and bent beneath his desk and started rifling through his bag.

 “What are you doing?” Louis asked him.

 “Getting my other books out, I need to write my name on them in case the teachers lose them.”

 Louis shook his head, “you can do that later. I want you to read the text that I gave you last week, the one you were supposed to look at for your homework.”

 “I’ve already read it.”

 “I want you to read it to me.”

 “Why?”

 “I want to hear you read.”

 “But-.”

 “Niall.” Louis cut him off. “Just do as I ask, please.”

 Niall screwed up his face and he looked like he was going to protest further but instead just let out a sigh, “you’re not allowed to laugh.”

 “I won’t.” Louis promised.

 Niall glanced around the room at the other boys, “they’re not allowed to laugh, either.”

 “They should be too busy doing work to be listening to us.”

 He saw a couple of the boys blush and pretend to be interested in the sheets in front of them but he knew they’d be listening. They were probably as curious as Louis was.

 Niall picked up the sheet with the text on and began to read.

 It was one of the most excruciating things Louis had ever had to sit through.

 Even with Louis’ help, the blonde boy struggled to break down the words into recognisable sounds and often got letters confused, garbling the words almost beyond recognition.

 After the first sentence Niall stopped and shoved the sheet away in disgust, “they’re laughing at me.”

 Louis looked up and saw the shaking shoulders and barely concealed laughter of the other boys and he shook his head, “no, they’re not. Come on, keep going. That was really good.”

 Harry snorted and turned in his chair, giving Niall a cruel grin, “you really are a retard. You can’t even fucking  _read_!”

 Niall jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over, and shouted, “fuck off! What the hell do you know?”

 Louis stood, too, ready to break the two boys apart, but Niall didn’t make a move towards Harry and Harry didn’t move from his seat, “boys-.”

 “I know you’re thick as fuck, five year old kids can read better than you.”

 Niall kicked at his fallen chair and stomped to the door, cursing and balling his hands into fists.

 “If you step one foot outside of that door then I won’t hesitate in giving you detention.” Louis told him, warning clear in his voice.

 Niall glared at him and yanked the door open, “I don’t give a shit.”

 “Niall, I-.”

 But the blonde had already gone, slamming the door shut behind himself with enough force to make the mug on the teacher’s desk rattle.

-

 Liam stood nervously outside the extra English room Mr Malik had shown him last week, shifting the straps of his backpack on his shoulders as he waited.

Why had he agreed to do this?

 What if the kid turned out to be a complete psycho?

 What if he got offended at something Liam said and tried to start a fight with him?

 What if-?

 Then Liam heard two sets of footsteps on the tiled floor and knew it was too late to back out.

 “Hey.” He said as Mr Tomlinson and the kid he was supposed to be helping out came into view.

 “Hello, Liam.” Mr Tomlinson gave him a smile. “How are you doing?”

 “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. How are you?” Liam asked as Mr Tomlinson unlocked the door for them.

“I’m alright.” Mr Tomlinson said. “Why don’t you go in Niall while I have a quick word with Liam?”

 The blonde kid-  _Niall_ , Liam knew he’d have to start referring to him by his name- nodded and slipped passed Liam and disappeared into the classroom.

 Mr Tomlinson pulled the door closed behind him to block out the sound of their conversation, “thank you so much for doing this, Liam, it really is a big help.”

 “It’s no problem.” Liam told him a little too flatly to be truly believed. “I’m happy to help.”

 “Just because you’ve agreed to today doesn’t mean that you always have to do this. If he starts to act out or you feel it’s not working for you then you can stop at any time, okay? You’re not under any obligation.”

 Liam let out a small breath of relief and his smile was more genuine now, “what should I do with him today?”

 “He has a sheet from extra English with a text and some questions on it, maybe you could start by reading the text through with him? And, if you have time, maybe look at the first couple of questions but that’s not too important. I want to work on his reading more than anything.” Mr Tomlinson said. “Just… Be patient with him, okay? And whatever you do, don’t laugh, he’s very shy about his reading.”

 Liam nodded, “okay. I can do that.”

 “Good.” Mr Tomlinson opened the door to the classroom, stuck his head inside and called to the room’s only inhabitant, “I’ll be back just before the bell rings so we can walk to English together, okay, Niall?”

 Liam heard a mumbled response from inside the classroom and Mr Tomlinson gave him a bright smile, “he’s all yours. I’ll see you soon.”

 And then he was gone.

 Liam entered the classroom and closed the door behind himself, quietly.

 The blonde was stood at the window, looking out onto the school grounds where the other students were enjoying their lunchtime.

 Liam went and sat at the desk Niall had left his bag on and cleared his throat, “maybe- erm, do you want to start?”

 “What? Oh, yeah.” Niall turned and gave Liam a big smile before joining Liam at the desk. “I’m Niall, by the way. Though, they probably already told you.”

 “I’m Liam.” He said and he held his hand out for Niall to shake.

 Niall laughed and took Liam’s larger hand in his own and shook it vigorously, “I’ve never shook hands with anyone before. Thought it was only something that old people did.”

 Liam blushed but tried to cover it by acting cool, “nah, everyone shakes hands.”

 “Whatever, man.” Niall grinned at him as he unzipped his bag. “S’pose they’ve told you how thick I am.”

 “Mr Malik and Mr Tomlinson said you were having trouble with reading.” Liam answered as diplomatically as possible.

 Niall seemed nice enough but Liam really didn’t want to put his foot in it and make the kid angry.

 Niall snorted and pulled out his extra English book and a packet of crisps, “that’s one way of putting it.”

 Liam retrieved his own lunch from his bag, sandwiches, crisps and fruit carefully prepared and boxed by his Mum that morning, “hey, don’t put yourself down. You won’t get better until you start believing in yourself.”

 Niall gave him a sceptical look but left it at that, “so, what did Tomo say we were supposed to do?”

 Liam laughed, “does he know you call him that?”

 Niall nodded, “he said it’s not proper but I think he liked it.”

 Liam grinned, “ _Tomo_  said that we should read the text he gave you for extra English.”

 “I thought he might’ve.” Niall said with a long sigh and he pulled the sheet from his exercise book. “You’re not allowed to laugh, if you do…”

 There was a warning tone to his voice that Liam heard as clear as day but all it made Liam do was smile.

Though he had only spent a few minutes with Niall, had only just seen him up close, he knew he didn’t really have that much to worry about. Not physically at least.

 The boy was tiny, barely five foot six, and skinny as hell, and if the worst came to the worst then Liam would easily have the advantage with his superior height and bulkier frame.

 “I promise I won’t laugh.” Liam told him.

 And Liam knew as Niall struggled with and stumbled over the words, reducing them to nothing more than  _noises_ , that there was nothing to laugh at.

 Niall fidgeted as he read, twisting in his seat and playing with his pen in his hands, and what he was trying to say got sloppier and sloppier as the minutes dragged by, even with Liam trying to help him sound out the words properly.

 Mid-word Niall stopped and turned his gaze to the window again, “they don’t let me do PE, you know.”

 “Why not?”

 “I have to do extra maths instead with Mr Peet.” Niall fidgeted in his seat some more and grabbed his packet of crisps, opening them and shoving them into his mouth as quickly as possible. Through a full mouth he said, “I don’t like him, he’s creepy.”

 “Some of the boys in my class used to call him Paedo Peet.” Liam told him, following Niall’s lead and starting on his lunch.

 “Why?”

 Liam shrugged, “like you said, he’s creepy. The way he stares at you sometimes… Everyone used to joke that he liked to touch up some of the boys.”

 “But he doesn’t, does he?”

 “No! Of course not!” Liam said, almost choking on his sandwich. “He’s a teacher! They wouldn’t let him anywhere near the school if it was true- never mind let him teach classes!”

 Niall finished his crisps and went and put the empty packet in the bin, humming a tune that Liam thought he recognised under his breath.

 “Is that all you’re having for lunch?” Liam asked in surprise.

 “What?” Niall asked, bouncing over to the window.

 “Don’t you have any sandwiches?”

 “Oh.” Niall said without looking at him, distracted by the activities of those beyond the glass. “I didn’t have time to make any this morning.”

 “Doesn’t your Mum pack your lunch?” Liam asked with a frown.

 His own Mum and the mums of all his friends still made their lunch for them, even though they were in sixth form.

 Liam assumed that that was what all mums did.

 Niall turned to him and gave him a small smile, “it’d be fucking spooky if she did.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “She died when I was five.” There was no sadness in his voice but Liam still felt bad.

 “Oh, God.” He said. “I’m sorry.”

 Niall shrugged and returned to his seat, “it was a long time ago.”

 “Do you- do you want half of my sandwich?” Liam asked, stumbling over his words. “I’m not that hungry and my Mum always makes loads.”

 “Are you being serious?” Niall asked with a wide grin.

 “Sure.” Liam said and he nudged his sandwich box over so that Niall could pick up the other half of his sandwich. “Help yourself.”

 “Thanks, man!”

 Liam blushed and watched the pure delight that filled the smaller boy’s face as he ate.

 “Shit, this is good!” Niall said between bites.

 And then he let out a moan that had Liam blushing an even deeper red than before.

 Liam coughed and looked away, not understanding his own reaction, “yeah, it’s alright.”

 There was a knock on the door then and Liam looked at his watch, saw that lunchtime was coming to an end, and let out a long breath of relief.

 Mr Tomlinson stepped into the room, “hey guys, how did it go?”

 “Good.” Liam said and forced himself to smile at the teacher. “Really good.”

 Niall was grinning as he shoved his things into his bag, “Liam let me have some of his sandwich!”

 “That was very nice of him.” Mr Tomlinson said, shooting Liam a wide smile. “How much did you manage to get done?”

 “We read most of the text.” Liam told him, snapping the lid back onto his lunchbox and putting it in his bag. “But we didn’t quite get to the end.”

 “That’s alright.” Mr Tomlinson said. “I’m impressed you managed to do as much as you did.”

 “Are you ready to go, Tomo?” Niall asked with a cheeky grin on his face.

 “What have I told you about calling me that?” Mr Tomlinson asked with a roll of the eyes.

 Niall laughed and almost skipped out into the corridor, “don’t?”

 “So you do remember.”

 Liam had joined them outside the classroom now and Mr Tomlinson was relocking the door.

 “Course.” Niall told him.

 “But you’re choosing to ignore me?” Mr Tomlinson asked him.

 “Something like that.”

 “Cheeky little-.” Mr Tomlinson cut himself off with a shake of the head and both Niall and Liam laughed.

 “Same time on Friday?” Liam asked once they reached the end of the corridor.

 “Yeah, man!” Niall said, enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “That was alright. Better than lessons!”

 The bell rung just as Mr Tomlinson teased, “I take offense at that, Niall.”

 They went their separate ways then, Mr Tomlinson and Niall heading towards the English block while Liam made for the music department, and Liam couldn’t help smiling the whole way to next lesson.

 He had enjoyed his session with Niall more than he thought he would.

 Maybe helping Niall out wouldn’t be half bad.

-

 Niall paused in the doorway as always.

 Listening.

 Waiting.

 His whole body tensed when he heard a voice from inside the flat bark, “get in here, you little prick.”

 Niall did as he was told, not wanting to make his Dad any angrier than he obviously already was, hurrying into the small room that he was supposed to call home and almost tripping up over his own feet.

 His forehead was crumpled in confusion as he tried to work out what he had done wrong but he didn’t dare ask.

 “Your fucking school phoned me today.” His Dad said, striding towards him and making Niall cower.

 Niall’s eyes widened as pure fear shot through his body.

 Had Mr Tomlinson told him about what had happened in extra English?

 Or was it because Niall had gotten detention?

 Schools didn’t usually phone home about that kind of thing, Niall knew.

 Just what-?

 His Dad smacked him around the face, dragging him from his thoughts, “why can’t you be fucking normal, huh?”

 “I’m sorry.” Niall said, automatically. “I’m sorry.”

 Past experience had taught him that if he apologised then sometimes,  _sometimes_ , his Dad would go easy on him.

 “You’re pathetic.” The older man growled and lashed out with a fist, making the breath whoosh from Niall’s lungs.

 Had- had Mr Tomlinson told him about being Niall writing with his left hand?

 Was this what this was all about?

 Had Mr Tomlinson lied? Did it really make him a freak?

 Another punch to the chest had him gasping and wheezing on his knees.

 “It’s bad enough that you have to be on the stuff in the first place.” His Dad said. “But then to have your fucking form tutor phone me and ask me about it, tell me I should see the doctor about putting you on a higher dosage-!”

 Niall realised that his Dad was talking about his ADHD medication a split second before a booted foot crashed into his ribs and pushed all thought from his mind.

 “Take your shirt off.” His Dad said to him, his voice hard.

 “No!” Niall protested, tears brimming in his eyes.

 He knew what his Dad was planning.

 “You take your shirt off or I’ll take it off for you.” His Dad warned and Niall pulled his jumper and polo t-shirt off with shaking hands as his Dad removed the belt from his jeans.

 “Please, Dad.” Niall whispered, twisting the fabric of his school uniform in his trembling fingers. “I’ll be good, I promise. Please!”

 “Turn around.”

 Niall didn’t move, “please! I’ll be good.”

 His Dad shook his head and grabbed his son by his hair and forced him to move so his back was facing him, “you need to be taught a lesson.”

 Niall clenched his eyes shut as the belt sailed through the air and his yelp of pain was lost in a sob as the metal buckle came into contact with the soft flesh of his back.

 “You’ll be normal, even if I have to beat it into you.” His Dad told him as the belt hit his back again and again and again.

 Niall didn’t say anything.

 Words didn’t mean anything anymore.


	4. Chapter Four

 Harry was disappointed to see Niall stumble into Mr Malik’s room halfway through tutorial on Thursday morning.

 He hadn’t come to school the day before and Harry had hoped he wouldn’t turn up for the rest of the week.

 Not that he’d say anything, and especially not to the man himself, but he had enjoyed having Mr Tomlinson to himself once more.

 Life had felt almost normal again and Harry hadn’t gotten in trouble the whole day.

 But now Niall was back and Harry could feel the anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

 He watched the boy with hard eyes.

 Mr Malik cleared his throat when Niall reached his seat and gave the blonde a questioning look, “do I get an explanation as to why you’re late?”

 “No.” Niall said, glaring down at his desk.

 “Okay…” Mr Malik said, slowly. “How about why you weren’t in school yesterday?”

 “Fuck off.”

 Harry laughed and earned himself a sharp look from Mr Tomlinson.

 He ignored him.

 “Do you want to try again?” Mr Malik asked, calmly. “Without the swearing this time?”

 “Fuck off.” Niall repeated.

 “At least look at him if you’re going to chat shit, pussy.” Harry called to the blonde.

 “You keep out of this.” Mr Tomlinson said to him. “It has nothing to do with you.”

 “I don’t know what your problem is this morning, Niall, if you’ve gotten out of the wrong side of the bed or whatever but I won’t have you talking to me like that.” Mr Malik told him, still sounding calm. “Especially as I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

 Harry watched as Niall’s head snapped up to look at the teacher and he saw that the smaller boy’s eyes were full of tears.

 “Are you going to cry?” Harry taunted, cruelly. “You’re such a fucking baby.”

 “Harry.” Mr Tomlinson said and Harry heard the warning in his voice.

 “Just… _fuck off_.” Niall said and he dropped his head into his hands.

 “He’s crying!” One of the other kids said in a stage whisper.

 Harry laughed again, “he’s so fucking pathetic.”

 “That’s enough from you, Harry.” Mr Malik said. “One more word and I’ll put you in isolation for the day.”

 “You’re kidding, right?” Harry asked. “I’ve done nothing wrong! If anyone should go in isolation it should be  _him_.”

 Mr Tomlinson stood up then and walked across the classroom to Niall, “come on, Niall, let’s go for a walk.”

 “What the fuck?” Harry asked, his anger growing. “You can’t just fucking leave just ‘cause he’s decided to cry like a baby!”

 Mr Tomlinson ignored him and the boy sat in front of Harry murmured, “chill out, Styles, for God’s sake.”

 Harry jumped to his feet and put his hands on the underneath of the table, getting ready to flip it.

 “Don’t even think about it.” Mr Malik told him, sharply. “If you knock that table over then I’ll put you in isolation for the rest of the month. Don’t think I won’t.”

 Harry glared at him and Mr Malik met his eyes without flinching.

 Without looking away from Harry he said to the rest of the class, “I know it’s a little early for first lesson but do you mind giving me and Harry a few minutes to talk?”

 The other students packed up their things and left quickly, not wanting to get caught up in Harry’s tantrum.

 Harry gripped the edge of the table tightly and his face was a mask of open defiance.

 “I promise you, Harry.” Mr Malik said once the other students had left. “The rest of the month in isolation. Do you really want that?”

 Harry glared for a little while longer before his gaze flicked down to the desk in front of him.

 He hated isolation.

 “Why don’t we sit down and have a chat, yeah?” Mr Malik said, joining Harry at his desk.

 Harry nodded and sat down, slumping in his seat and crossing his arms across his chest like a sullen child, and Mr Malik took the seat Mr Tomlinson had been sat in.

 “What’s going on, Harry?” Mr Malik asked.

 “You always punish me.” Harry said. “Even when I haven’t done anything wrong.”

 “That’s not true.” Mr Malik told him.

 “You said you were going to put me in isolation.”

 “I did. Can you think of why I might have said that?”

 “No.”

 “Think about it, Harry. You’re not stupid and I know you know the rules.”

 Harry exhaled angrily and then said, “I swore.”

 “Anything else?”

 “No.”

 “Think about what you said to Niall.”

 “What about it?”

 “Do you think you’d have liked it if someone else spoke to you like that?”

 “Nobody’d dare.”

 “What if they did? How do you think it’d make you feel?”

 Harry shrugged, “don’t know.”

 “It’d make you angry, you know it would.” Mr Malik told him. “You were trying to wind Niall up and get him into trouble.”

 The bell rung but they both ignored it.

 “So what?” Harry asked. “He got me suspended.”

 “No, you got yourself suspended.” Mr Malik corrected him. “You need to stop blaming him for that and own up to your own actions: be a man about it.”

 Harry glared at Mr Malik sullenly, “I hate him.”

 “Have you even tried to speak to him? Have a proper conversation that doesn’t end in the two of you swearing and destroying furniture?”

 “No.”

 “Then how do you know?”

 “I just know, okay? He’s a retard, he can’t even read.”

 “Hey, that’s not very fair.” Mr Malik told him. “Remember when the other kids said stuff about you not being able to read very well?”

 Harry frowned, “that’s different. They were picking on me.”

 “It’s not different at all, Harry, it’s exactly the same.”

 There was a pause before Mr Malik said, “you’re bullying him, just like those kids used to bully you.”

 “I’m not.” Harry protested, though, he knew what Mr Malik had said was true. “I don’t bully people. I get into fights and stuff but those kids deserve it.”

 Mr Malik looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Harry repeated, stubbornly, “I don’t bully people.”

 “Think about it, Harry.” Mr Malik said, looking at his watch. “We’re going to have to stop here, you’re late for lesson and I can hear my year 7s causing trouble outside.”

 “Are you going to put me in isolation?” Harry asked.

 Mr Malik shook his head, “no. I think you understand what you’ve done wrong. What lesson have you got so I can write you a note?”

 “Music.”

 Mr Malik smiled at him, “that’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You go let my years 7s in and I’ll see about that note, yeah?”

 Harry hid his own smile behind locks of curly hair.

-

 There were days when Zayn questioned why he had ever become a teacher.

 When the marking piled up and the kids acted like brats.

 When the other members of staff questioned his teaching style and government policies interfered with what happened inside the classroom to the point of ridiculousness.

 When he spent more time planning lessons and preparing materials than going out with his friends.

 And, sometimes, he found it so completely draining and exhausting that he wondered how he even managed to get out of bed in the morning.

 But, then, there’d be those moments when he felt he’d made the best decision in the world.

 The way the kids’ faces lit up with realisation as they found the solutions to their problems.

 The absolute joy on results day when they realised all their hard work had paid off.

 The disbelief and wonder when they completed something they had thought impossible.

 The satisfaction in knowing that he had been able to have an influence on their life, had pushed them and helped them reach their potential.

 But, perhaps, the most rewarding part of his job was being able to help out ‘problem’ children like Harry and Niall.

 They both presented him their own challenges and tried his patience, never mind all the extra paperwork he had to do because of them, all the other staff members he had to upset to keep them out of trouble, but he felt that none of that really mattered. Not really, not when he had breakthroughs like he had that morning with Harry…

 The moment when Harry had grasped what he had been doing wrong, had seen fault in his own actions…

 It truly was indescribable.

 And he had been able to make Harry smile!

 That in itself was a massive feat, the teen was known throughout the school for his almost permanent scowl.

 “What are you looking so smug about?” Louis asked, flopping down in the seat next to him.

 “Smug? Moi? I’m insulted at the very suggestion, Lou.”

 “Get over yourself.” Louis teased him. “I’m guessing you’ve had a good day so far, then?”

 “Yeah, I think I managed to get through to Harry this morning.” Zayn told him with a happy grin. “Have you noticed any difference?”

 “A bit, yeah, he seemed less…” Louis paused as took a gulp of coffee from his steaming mug and then winced. “Shit, that’s hot! Bastard. What was I saying?”

 “Harry.”

 “Oh, yeah. I don’t know what you said to him but he seemed a lot less hostile towards Niall.”

 “That’s good.”

 “Not friendly, mind you, just not so threatening, you know?” Louis blew on his coffee this time before taking a sip from it. “No bitchy remarks or putting him down.”

 “And how’s Niall? Did you manage to talk to him?”

 “Not really.” Louis said with a frown. “He won’t really talk to me. He keeps giving me these looks, like I’ve done something wrong.”

 “And have you?” Zayn asked.

 “I don’t think so.” Louis screwed his face up in thought. “Everything was fine on Tuesday.”

 “Maybe he’s still feeling ill from whatever was wrong with him yesterday, he did look a bit pale in tutorial.”

 “Yeah, maybe… I don’t know, with him- I just think there’s something more.”

 “We can’t push him too far yet, he’s got to learn that he can trust us first.”

 “I know.”

 Zayn let out a long sigh, “how’s he doing in lessons? Is he actually doing any work yet? I’ve had Jane Williams on my back all week.”

 “Yeah, we’ve just had physics now. She doesn’t seem too happy with him but I think he’s trying, he actually did some work today.”

 Zayn’s eyebrows shot up, “really?”

 “In all his lessons today, actually, not just physics. He wrote his name on all his exercise books and we worked together on the tasks he’s had to do. It’s just so hard because his reading is so bad and writing anything takes such a long time while he tries to work out the spelling and how to put the sentence together.”

 “He’s already behind all the other kids, at this rate he’s just going to keep getting further and further behind.” Zayn let out a short sigh, “but, I suppose that there’s not that much we can do. As long as he’s trying we can’t ask for anymore from him.”

 “English and maths are the main priorities but that’s where he’s struggling the most.” Louis told him. “He’s not stupid, when he listens he gets what the teachers are talking about but actually getting that onto paper…”

 “You think he might be dyslexic.”

 It wasn’t a question.

 “I’ve never seen a kid misspell his own name as consistently as he does.” Louis said.

 “It’s worth looking into- think of all the extra time he could get during his exams.”

 “Doesn’t it make you angry, though?” Louis asked.

“What do you mean?”

 “He’s 16, in the last year of high school, and it’s taken until now for someone to notice? That’s not right. And the whole writing with his right hand thing…it’s just crazy!”

 “We don’t know for sure yet, Lou.” Zayn told him, though, he understood his friend’s anger.

 The school system had let Niall down.

 Had let him slip through the cracks.

 “He’s been to so many different schools, too, you would have thought that at least one person would have noticed.” Louis said.

 “That’s probably why they never did.” Zayn told him. “They probably just looked at his file and saw he was a troublemaker and left it at that.”

 “What about his Dad? You’d have thought he’d have noticed that his son was having so much trouble at school.”

 Zayn shrugged, “who knows? It’s worth bringing him into school and talking to him about getting Niall assessed.”

 Louis nodded, “I’ll talk to Sandra about it, see what she says.”

 “Good idea, it’s better that we do all of this sooner rather than later.”

-

Liam stood waiting in the same spot on Friday lunchtime as he had on Tuesday, a small smile tugging at his lips.

 He didn’t feel nervous this time and now he knew what to expect from Niall he felt more prepared.

 More certain.

 He was early, the bell hadn’t rung yet, but Liam hadn’t been able to sit in the sixth form lounge for any longer.

 He felt strangely excited and he didn’t really understand why.

 Niall was a nice guy, a bit spacey, but that was it.

 Maybe it was the thrill of being able to help him out? To know that Liam was helping to make a difference in his life?

 Yeah, that was probably it. 

 Whatever the reason, his smiled widened when the bell rung and the door to the extra English classroom opened.

 A few boys Liam recognised from around school spilled out into the hallway and carried on down the corridor towards the main body of the school, their conversation echoing loudly in the previous quiet.

 Mr Tomlinson and Harry Styles, someone Liam definitely recognised, appeared in the doorway a minute or so later.

 “You did really well today, Harry, I’m really happy with you.” Mr Tomlinson said, clapping the curly haired teen on the shoulder. “Now, go and enjoy your lunch. I’ll see you in biology, okay?”

 Harry nodded and gave Liam a suspicious stare before he stalked down the corridor and out of sight.

 “Hey, Liam.” Mr Tomlinson said as he spotted Liam waiting. “You alright?”

 “Yeah, I’m really good, thanks. How about you?”

 “I’m glad it’s Friday.” Mr Tomlinson joked and he pulled the door closed. “I’d just thought I’d give you a bit of warning: Niall isn’t in the best of moods today.”

 “What?” Liam’s smile faltered.

 “He’s a bit quiet and moody but nothing to worry about, okay?” Mr Tomlinson quickly reassured him. “He told me he was looking forward to your session today so he might perk up a bit. I just thought I’d let you know, just in case.”

 “Oh.” Liam said. “Okay.”

 “Anyway, I’ve given him a text for you two to read, it’s easier than the one you were looking at on Tuesday.”

 Liam blushed, “well, actually, sir, I was thinking, I mean, well- I brought in a couple of books I thought we could look at.”

 “Oh, yeah?” Mr Tomlinson raised an eyebrow at him and Liam’s blush deepened.

 “Yeah, I thought something with pictures might be good so I brought in a couple of Roald Dahl books. I really liked reading them when I was a kid and I thought Niall might like them, too.” Liam shrugged. “You know, ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ and ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’, that kind of thing.”

 “That’s a really good idea, Liam.” Mr Tomlinson beamed at him. “Yeah, I think he’d like that.”

 Liam’s smile was back at Mr Tomlinson’s praise, “well, I suppose I better go in.”

 “Yeah, I’ll be back just before the bell rings. Have fun!”

 Liam gave him a small wave and then joined Niall in the classroom.

 “Hey, Niall. How are you doing today? Are you alright?”

 Niall was sat at the desk they had sat at on Tuesday, the one in the back left hand corner, and Liam wondered if this was where he sat during his extra English lessons, too, or if Niall just preferred to sit at the back of the classroom.

 “Yeah, I’m alright.” Niall gave him a tired smile and waved a sheet of paper at him.

 “Is that what Tomo gave us to read?” Liam asked, sitting down in the seat next to the blonde.

 Niall nodded, “it looks boring.”

 Liam took the sheet from his hand and quickly skimmed over its contents, “yeah, you’re right, it  _is_  pretty boring. What’s Tomo thinking, ey?”

 Niall looked at Liam with wide eyes, “did you just read all of that?

 Liam shrugged, “pretty much.”

 “Are you, like, a genius or something?”

 Liam laughed, “not at all. I’m just a quick reader.”

 Niall sighed, “I wish I could read like you.”

 Liam didn’t know what to say to that.

 What could he say?

 He didn’t want to get his hopes up in case it never happened or say something rash and untrue like Niall’d pick it up eventually and it really wasn’t all that hard.

 Liam knew that wasn’t true.

 “I brought some books with me.” Liam said and he begun to dig around his backpack. “Why don’t you choose one for us to read while we have our lunch? Tomo said this’d be a better idea than reading that sheet he gave you.”

 Liam put the books he had brought with him on the table and watched as Niall picked up the one closest to him and flicked through the pages, “I’ve never read a whole book in my life, you know.”

 “Well, these are classics so they’re a good place to start.” Liam told him, taking his lunchbox out of his bag next.

 Niall frowned as he picked up another of the books, “they look like they’re for kids.”

 “They are.” Liam told him with a shrug. “They’re still some of my favourites, though.”

 “ _You_  read them?” Niall asked.

 Liam nodded and took his sandwiches out of his lunchbox, “of course. Everybody reads these books- they’re classics, like I said.”

  Niall smiled and began to look through the books properly now, actually seeming to take an interest to what was on the pages.

 Liam frowned at him, “no time to make sandwiches again this morning?”

 Niall shook his head and shrugged, “I was running late.”

 Liam put a hand into his still open backpack, pulled out a package wrapped in foil and handed it to Niall.

 “What’s this?” The blonde asked, turning it in his hands.

 “Just open it.” Liam told him with a smile.

 Niall unwrapped the foil slowly and his whole face lit up with a grin when he saw what was inside, “sandwiches! Are they for me?”

 “Yeah, I’ve got my own.” Liam told him, waving his sandwich in Niall’s direction. “My Mum insisted on making some for you after- after I told her how busy you are on a morning.”

 “Wow, thanks, Liam!” Niall said, eyeing the food with pure joy on his face.

 “It’s no problem.” Liam told him, pleased that Niall hadn’t noticed his lie.

 Because Liam had seen Niall’s clothes, seen his backpack, and his falling apart shoes and come to the conclusion that it maybe wasn’t just forgetfulness that left Niall without any proper lunch.

 “You can eat them, you know.” Liam said, nudging Niall lightly with his elbow. “They’re not going to kill you.”

 Niall stuck his tongue out at him before taking a huge bite out of the sandwich he was holding in his left hand.

 Liam laughed at him as the younger boy chewed and choked, obviously having bitten off more than he could handle.

 When Niall recovered himself he said in awe, “it’s so  _good_!”

 “I’ll tell my Mum you said thanks then, should I?” Liam teased.

 “Yeah!” And he took another bite and said something that Liam didn’t quite catch.

 “What was that?”

 Niall swallowed, “how come you talked to your Mum about me?”

 Liam shrugged, “she likes to hear about what I do at school, my friends and that.”

 “Friends?” Niall asked, giving Liam a look that he couldn’t quite read.

 “Yeah, we’re friends aren’t we?” Liam said, trying to cover his sudden nerves by taking a bite from his sandwich.

 Niall’s cheeks flooded red and he seemed suddenly shy, “yeah, we’re friends.”

 “Good.” Liam said, not even trying to keep the massive grin from his face. “Now, which book have you chosen for us to read?”


	5. Chapter Five

 Niall felt sick.

 He felt really, really sick.

 He fidgeted in his seat, twisted the hem of his tatty jumper in his fingers and looked anywhere but at the man sat beside him.

 Mr Malik was talking but Niall wasn’t listening.

 He couldn’t.

 He was in trouble.

 He had done something wrong.

 Something really, really bad.

 That was why was sat in Mrs Heppell’s office with Mr Malik, Mr Tomlinson and Mrs Heppell.

 With his Dad.

 Why had they called his Dad in?

 Niall had been good.

 He had!

 He had done his work.

  Or, at least, he had tried to do it.

 It wasn’t his fault he was so stupid, was it?

 That the work was so hard.

 He was doing his best! What more could they want from him?

 He had written his name on his books just like Mr Tomlinson had told him to and he was doing the exercises in them just like all the other kids!

 And for Thursday and Friday he had been quiet and hadn’t caused the teachers any trouble, not counting what had happened in tutorial on Thursday morning, but they had still called his Dad and when Niall had gotten home on Friday night his Dad had shown him how pathetic he thought Niall really was.

 But Niall didn’t like to think about that.

 He really, really didn’t.

 Because Niall knew what his Dad did with him on Friday night, all those other times he had to show Niall how truly worthless he was, wasn’t what normal Dad’s did.

 It was worse than being hit.

 But Niall had  _made_  him do it.

 And Niall had deserved it.

 His Dad had told him so and he believed him.

 His Dad had never been wrong before.

“-listening, Niall?”

 A heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder and gripped the sore flesh, tightly.

 “Your teacher’s speaking to you, boy.” His Dad said and gave his shoulder a painful squeeze. “Listen to him.”

 “I’m sorry.” Niall said to the older man more than anyone else.

 “It’s okay, Niall.” Mr Malik said, giving him a kind smile when Niall met his eyes. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I’ve done something wrong.”

 Mr Malik smile turned into a frown and he looked at Mr Tomlinson very quickly before continuing, “no, you’re not in trouble. Apart from a couple of small hiccups you’ve had a good first two weeks here at school, I’ve been impressed.”

 Niall scrunched his face up in confusion.

 He didn’t understand.

 “I think you might be dyslexic.” Mr Tomlinson said. “Do you know what that means?”

 Niall nodded, “it means you can’t spell.”

 “It’s more than that, it affects your ability to read, too. It makes it hard for you to connect sounds with letters and sometimes you get them all mixed up.” Mr Tomlinson told him. “Do you think that sounds familiar?”

 Niall wanted to shrug but the weight of his Dad’s hand on his shoulder made movement impossible, “yeah.”

 “Mr Malik and Mr Tomlinson would like to get you assessed, Niall.” Mrs Heppell told him.

 “With needles?” Niall asked.

 “What? No, this assessment would mean that an educational psychologist would come into school and watch you in lessons for a few days and look at your work, chat to you a little about school. Then, after that, he’ll probably make you do a couple of tests.”

 “What kind of tests? Like spelling?”

 “Not spelling specifically, but your reading and writing skills will be tested as well as a couple of other things.” She told him.

 “And then what?” His Dad asked. “If he is dyslexic or whatever, what does it mean? Will he have to go on medication like for his ADHD?”

 “There’s no cure for dyslexia.” Mrs Heppell told him. “No medication that can help control it.”

 “Then why bother getting him tested?”

 “A diagnosis would mean that the school would be able to offer your son extra support, more one-to-one interaction with teaching staff and specialist help.” Mrs Heppell said.

 “It’d also mean he’d be awarded extra time in the summer when he does his GCSEs.” Mr Malik added.

 “And how much are you expecting me to shell out for this? I’m not exactly made of money, you know.”

 “It wouldn’t  _cost_  you anything, Mr Horan.” Mr Malik said, almost sharply. “Apart from a bit of your time to discuss the results in a couple of weeks’ time.”

 Niall winced and looked at his form tutor with wide eyes, begging him not to anger his Dad any further than already was.

 “I don’t like your tone.”

 “Can- can we stop?” Niall asked, desperately, terrified that his Dad would snap. “I want to go to lesson now.”

 Mrs Heppell looked at the clock on the wall, “lunch isn’t over for another twenty minutes yet, Niall, and I think there are other things we need to talk about.”

 “I’ll do all your tests and I’ll be good, okay?” Niall said, looking at the carpeted floor to hide the tears welling in his eyes. “I just want to go.”

 “Mr Horan?” Mrs Heppell asked.

 “Do whatever tests you want.” He said, carelessly.

 “Okay then.” Mrs Heppell said, sounding mildly surprised. “No questions?”

 “No.”

 “Can I go now?” Niall asked but no one answered him.

 Mrs Heppell stood from behind her desk and Mr Malik and Mr Tomlinson followed suit, “it was nice to meet you, Mr Horan. We’ll be in contact with you in a couple of weeks once we’ve had the results.”

 The adults exchanged handshakes and it took all of Niall’s control to not run for the door screaming.

 “I’ll take you back to reception.” Mrs Heppell said to Niall’s Dad.

 “I’ll see you at home.” The older man said and Niall could hear the promise of pain in his voice.

 “Come on, Niall.” Mr Tomlinson said, kindly, once Mrs Heppell and his Dad had left the office, putting a friendly hand on Niall’s shoulder and making him flinch. “Let’s go to Mr Malik’s room, I think there are a couple of things we need to talk about.”

 “I’m sorry.” Niall automatically said.

 His mind was in overdrive, a million thoughts rushing at him and overwhelming him.

 All he knew was that he was in trouble and he was going to be hurt.

 Hurt badly.

 “I’m sorry.” He said again.

 “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Mr Tomlinson told him.

 But that was a lie, Niall knew.

 There was always something he had to be sorry for.

 Waking his Dad in the mornings as he got ready to leave the flat.

 Touching the food in the fridge.

 Not tidying up after himself before going to school on a morning.

 Using the loose change found around the flat to buy the packets of crisps that made up the majority of his meals.

 There were bigger things, too, ones that Niall could apologise a million times over for and never be forgiven.

 His poor performance at school.

 His ADHD.

His tiny stature.

 His crooked teeth.

 His existence.

  “I’m sorry.” He repeated. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

 “Hey, it’s alright.” He heard Mr Malik say but Niall couldn’t look at him, not when he was sobbing and there were tears streaming down his face.

 Crying was a sign of weakness.

 “Why don’t you sit down?” Mr Tomlinson said.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t be.” Mr Tomlinson told him and Niall was guided into a seat.

 A hand started to rub soothing circles on his back but this just aggravated the still healing wounds there and he hissed in pain and jerked away from the other person’s touch.

 “Niall?”

 He thought the voice sounded angry.

 Niall pulled his legs to his chest and buried his face in his knees, “I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me, I’ll be good.”

 “No one’s going to hurt you, Niall. You’re safe here at school.” A voice told him. “Mr Tomlinson and me, we’ll keep you safe.”

 “I’m sorry.” Niall said again.

 The voices whispered to each other but Niall didn’t even try to listen.

 All he could concentrate on was getting his breathing under control and his thoughts in some kind of order.

 He needed to pull himself together, just in case…

 Just in case the voices decided to hurt him.

 He needed to be prepared.

 He heard the door open and someone leave.

 Still, he forced himself to breathe in.

 And then out.

 And in.

 And out.

 Finally,  _finally_ , he seemed to calm down.

 He looked up from his knees and saw Mr Malik sat in a chair directly facing him.

 The older man’s face was hard to read and Niall thought he might look sad but he couldn’t be sure.

 “Are you feeling better now?” Mr Malik asked.

 Niall nodded, shakily, and he opened his mouth to speak but Mr Malik cut him off.

 “If you’re about to apologise-  _don’t_. You’ve done nothing wrong, Niall, nothing at all.”

 The door creaked open then and Mr Tomlinson entered carrying a mug of steaming tea.

 He gave it to Niall, who clutched at it with trembling hands, and said, “drink that, it’ll help you feel better.”

 Niall nodded and blew on the hot beverage before taking a sip.

 It was sickly sweet.

 Mr Tomlinson pulled up a chair beside Niall and stroked his arm, gently.

 “Do you want to tell us what happened?” Mr Malik asked him.

 Niall shrugged and the movement upset the mug he was clutching desperately in his hands but he didn’t make a sound as the scalding liquid coated them.

 “Maybe I should hold that for a little bit?” Mr Tomlinson said, holding out a hand to take back the cup of tea but Niall didn’t give it to him. “Or maybe not. That’s okay.”

 “Niall, I’m going to ask you a question now and I want you to give me an honest answer, okay?” Mr Malik said.

 Niall nodded.

 “Has your Dad ever hurt you?”

 Niall froze.

 “If you tell us the truth then we can help you.” Mr Malik told him.

 “How?” Niall asked.

 “We can talk to social services, see about getting you taken away from him so he can’t hurt you ever again.”

 “You mean have me put into care.”

 “Yeah.”

 Niall stared into the mug, watching the liquid quake and ripple from the shaking of his hands.

 “I know you’re scared.” Mr Tomlinson said, quietly. “But we only want what’s best for you, Niall.”

 Mr Malik nodded, “Mr Tomlinson’s right, whatever happens, we’ll be there for you to help you through it, okay? We want to help you.”

 Niall couldn’t speak, the words stuck in his throat.

 Was this some trick?

 But Mr Malik and Mr Tomlinson, they had both been so kind to him and the way that they were looking at him…

 They cared about him.

 He didn’t understand why because he knew he was nothing special, was less than that even, but they were there with him, watching him patiently.

 The bell rung and he jumped, slopping tea all over himself.

 He didn’t try to stop Mr Tomlinson from taking the mug from him this time.

 “Niall-?”

 Niall took a deep breath and stood.

 It was hard to breathe and he knew his whole body was trembling but he knew what he had to do.

 He peeled his wet jumper off before clenching his eyes shut and pulling his polo shirt off.

 He turned and showed them his back, unveiling a secret he had kept hidden for the last eleven years.

 -

Louis was exhausted by the time he got home that night.

 Completely and utterly drained.

 He barely even remembered the drive home.

 Without thinking he went from room to room and flicked on all the lights before returning to the living room and switching the TV on and cranking the volume up as loud as it went. 

 He didn’t want to feel alone tonight.

 He put the kettle on and opened the fridge to see what he could make for dinner but nothing looked appetising.

 He picked up the phone, keyed in a number he knew by heart and held it in the crook of his neck as he made his cup of tea.

 “Hi, Mum.” He said, once somebody on the other end of the phone answered. “How are you?”

 He moved back into the living room and collapsed into his favourite chair and set his cup of tea down on the coffee table before lowering the sound on the TV slightly.

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine… Just tired, it’s been a really hard day at school. We had to call social services in for one of our year 11 boys… Yeah, it was bad. His Dad had been hitting him…For how long? God knows? Probably the kid’s whole life… No, his Mum died when he was five…Yeah, it is really sad, he’s such a nice kid…”

 He picked up his cup and took a small sip.

 “He- he showed us what his Dad had done.” Louis’s voice shook as he spoke into the phone and he could feel the onset of tears. “Just- I don’t understand. How can anyone do that to their own child? To any child?”

 The marks on Niall’s back had made Louis feel sick. They were mostly scabbed over but still looked sore and angry against the teen’s pale skin. Louis hadn’t known what had made them, hadn’t even wanted to guess, but Zayn, later, out of Niall’s earshot, had said they looked like marks from a belt buckle and that had just made Louis feel even more sick.

 And then there had been the bruises that mottled the too thin body, discolouring the pale and heavily scarred skin. Some were a deep purple, obviously fresh, while others were a faded yellow, pointing to abuse that happened perhaps weeks before.

 They looked so painful and Louis wondered how Niall had managed to smile and to laugh.

 Louis doubted he would have been able to.

 “What? Yeah, sorry, I’m still here.”

 He set his cup of tea back down on the coffee table and let out a long sigh, “how are the girls? Have you heard from Lottie recently?”

 He found himself smiling as his Mum told him of his younger sisters’ exploits, laughing even, but it felt hollow, sounded a little too forced to actually be considered genuine.

 He just couldn’t get Niall out of his head.

 “Mum.” He said as their conversation drew to a close hours later. “I was thinking, maybe I could come home this weekend? It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of you guys.”

 He let out a relieved sigh when she agreed and, just as they were finishing drawing up their plans, Louis’ doorbell rang.

 “I’m going to have to go, Mum, there’s someone at the door… I know, it  _is_  a bit late… Yeah, I love you, too, can’t wait to see you on Friday. Pass on my love to the others. Bye, bye… Yeah, night, Mum. Love you!”

 He hung up the phone as the doorbell rang again and he reluctantly dragged himself out of his chair and to the door.

 He looked through the peephole before opening the door, “well, this is a surprise.”

 Zayn gave him a tired smile and waved a pizza box under his nose, “nice to see you, too.”

 Louis snorted and stepped out of the doorway, letting the younger man into his flat, “I didn’t know you knew which flat was mine.”

 “Don’t you remember me dragging your ass home last work’s Christmas party?” Zayn asked and then let out a soft chuckle, “probably not, you were pretty wasted.”

 “I always wondered how I had gotten home that night.” He said as he led Zayn into the living room. “Put the pizza down on the coffee table, I’ll go get us some plates. Do you want anything to drink? Water? Juice? Tea? Beer?”

 “I’ll have a beer.” Zayn said. “I feel like I need one after the day I’ve had.”

 Louis nodded and disappeared into the kitchen before returning with a couple of plates, some kitchen roll and two cans of beer.

 “What happened after I left? Did social services make it in eventually?” Louis asked, handing out the plates and the beers before joining Zayn on the sofa.

 Louis had waited with Zayn and Niall until close to six o’clock in the evening until he had finally left for home, Zayn insisting that he really didn’t need to stay, too, that they could be at school for hours longer before anyone showed up.

 Social services were known for taking their time in these situations.

 “They turned up minutes after you left, actually.” Zayn told him, shaking his head ruefully. “Kind of wish I didn’t ask you to go home.”

 “Why?” Louis asked, helping himself to a slice of pizza.

 “It was  _hard_ , you know? Niall was obviously scared and they kept asking him all these questions and I didn’t know what to do or to say.” Zayn brushed a hand through his hair. “He kept looking at me like I had all the answers but… I just didn’t. I’ve never had to do anything like this before.”

 “What did they decide to do? Are the police involved?”

 “No, Niall didn’t want to press charges, I think he just wanted to get out of there.” Zayn said with a shrug. “We went round to his house to pick up his things and  _shit_ , Louis. It was pathetic.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “Do you know the newsagents in the centre of town? The one opposite the pub?”

 Louis nodded and chewed slowly on his food, wondering where Zayn was going with this.

 “There’s a flat above that, that’s where he lived. It was fucking tiny, like just one room and a tiny shitty bathroom, not even enough room for one person, never mind two. And do you know where Niall slept? On the fucking sofa, he didn’t even have his own bed!”

 Louis didn’t know what to say.

 “And his things? Two pairs of tracksuit bottoms, three t-shirts, four pairs of boxers and some trainers that have to be older than he is.” Zayn swiped angrily at his eyes. “No laptop, no iPod, no phone- not even any photos or keepsakes- this kid had nothing to show for his life.”

 “Was his Dad there?” Louis asked. “At the flat?”

 “No, thank God, I might have killed him.” Zayn said, heatedly. “I mean, who the fuck does that to their child? Niall was terrified, I could see him shaking the whole time we were in there and it just made me so fucking angry! Why would you do that to your child? Someone who you brought into the world, someone who looked to you to protect them and keep them safe? And Niall, Niall’s probably one of the sweetest kids I’ve met. I know he has his problems and can be mouthy sometimes but at the end of the day, after everything that bastard has put him through, he still smiles and has a laugh with you. Why would anyone want to hurt him?”

 “I know.” Louis said, dropping his half-eaten slice of pizza onto his plate. “I’ve been thinking the exact same thing.”

 “And all those schools, all those teachers and other kids and no one noticed anything?” Zayn again brushed away the tears that were slipping down his cheeks. “How could this happen?” 

 “I don’t know.” Louis answered him, honestly, keenly aware of the parallel to the conversation they had had on Thursday about Niall’s possible dyslexia. “I really don’t. Life’s been shit for this kid.”

 “You can say that again.” Zayn said, a bitter tone to his voice.

 “Where is he now?”

 “Social services took him to an emergency placement foster home and he’ll probably stay there for a few days before they can find him something more permanent.”

 “What about school?”

 “He’ll come into school like normal, the family who have him now have a couple of their own kids at our school anyway.”

 “So, we’ll be able to see him tomorrow?”

 Zayn nodded, “yeah.”

 Louis forced himself to smile, “good.”


	6. Chapter Six

“His concentration is all over the place today so be patient with him, okay?” Mr Tomlinson said, looking unusually grave. “He’s had some trouble at home.”

 “Sure.” Liam said with a small smile. “I can do that.”

 He was curious but he wouldn’t ask questions or pry because it really wasn’t his place.

 His Mum had taught him better than that.

 “I’ll be back before the bell, then.” Mr Tomlinson told him. “See you soon.”

 “In a bit, sir.” Liam said and he joined Niall in the classroom.

 Like their first session a week ago, the blonde was stood at the window staring out at the other students out in the grounds.

 “Hey, Niall.” Liam said, forcing himself to sound more cheerful than he felt. “How are you doing, buddy?”

 Niall turned to him and a slow grin formed on his face, “hi, Liam! I’m alright, how about you?”

 “I can’t complain.” Liam told him and he took his usual seat at the back desk.

 Niall came over to join him and sat down, “I don’t know if I feel like reading today.”

 “Okay.” Liam said, trying to hide his frown.

 Niall bit his lip and let out a little sigh, “you said we were friends.”

 “I did.” Liam said, slowly, wondering where the younger teen was going with this.

 “Can we just talk?” Niall wouldn’t look at him. “It’s just that, well, I don’t really have any other friends, like, and it feels weird talking to the teachers.”

 “If you want to talk, we can talk.” Liam told him, feeling strangely pleased.

Niall gave him a wide smile, “really?”

 “Yeah, of course.” Liam was smiling now, too.

 Niall picked his backpack up from the floor, unzipped it and pulled out a plastic container very similar to the one Liam used for his lunch, “look at this.”

 Niall pried the lid off and showed him the contents.

 “You’ve got lunch.” Liam said, feeling slightly disappointed even though he knew he shouldn’t.

 He had sandwiches in his bag for Niall.

 “Yeah.” Niall was smiling brightly now as he pulled everything out and showed each item to Liam as he named them, “some crisps, a banana, a Kit Kat and some ham and cheese sandwiches! She even asked me what I wanted in them!”

 “She?” Liam asked.

 “Mrs Western.”

 “Who is she?”

 “My foster Mum, for the next few days at least. Before they find somewhere else to put me.”

 Liam frowned, “what do you mean?”

 “They took me away from my Dad last night.” Niall said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “He wasn’t looking after me properly.”

 “Oh.”

 Liam didn’t know what to say.

 “I thought it was going to be really bad at first.” Niall told him, his words carrying an edge of innocence and honesty that Liam had only heard in small children. “I’d heard stories and my Dad always said… But, it’s not. Mr and Mrs Western are really nice, they weren’t even angry that I was just dumped on them, like. They seemed really happy that I was there.”

 “That’s really good.” Liam said, smiling for his friend.

 Niall nodded, “do you know what the best bit is, Liam? They gave me my own bedroom! Like, just for  _me_. They said it was my space while I was there with them and they weren’t going to enter it without me saying it was okay first. Don’t you think that’s cool?”

 “Yeah, that’s really cool.” Liam tried to match Niall’s cheer but he just couldn’t.

 Who got  _that_  excited about having their own bedroom?

 Nearly everyone Liam knew had their own room and the only people who had to share were those with lots of brothers and sisters. But, Niall didn’t have any siblings, did he?

 He had never mentioned anything about it.

 Then why had he not had his own bedroom before?

 Liam didn’t know if he wanted to guess.

 “-and then Mrs Western said she was going to pick me and the twins up after school and take us shopping for some new clothes.”

 “The twins?”

 “Yeah, Andy and Rob. They’re in year 9, they play football on the field at lunch.”

 Liam nodded, though, he still had no idea who Niall was talking about.

 Niall just continued on with his story, “I didn’t think the twins were that pleased, like, and I said that I didn’t want to go but Mrs Western said that I shouldn’t worry because social services were going to be giving them money so they could buy new things for me. But that wasn’t why I didn’t want to go, I hadn’t even thought about that, to be honest, I just really hate shopping.”

 Liam let out a snort of laughter before saying, “I’m really pleased for you, Niall, they seem like really good people.”

 “They are.”

 “But…but aren’t you sad that you might not see your Dad again?”

 Liam couldn’t imagine being taken away from his parents.

 “He’s still your Dad, whatever’s happened.”

 Niall frowned but didn’t say anything.

 “Niall?” Liam asked, worried that he had said something wrong.

 “I’ve changed my mind, can we do some reading?”

 Liam sighed and nodded and retrieved ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ from his bag.

-

 Living with the Westerns was completely different to anything that Niall had experienced before.

 They had all these strange rules that Niall had to keep to.

He had to come straight home from school unless he had detention or something else school related.

 He had to sit at the dining table with the twins and Mrs Western every evening and do his homework.

 He had to use the money they gave him for bus fare and not to spend it on sweets or crisps.

 And, maybe strangest of all, he had to ask permission to go out on an evening, he wasn’t allowed to just leave.

 Niall had never had to ask to leave the house before, for as long as he could remember, since he was very young, and it had become habit. A way of avoiding his Dad, their cramped living conditions and school work. But, mainly, to avoid his Dad.

 When he was small he used to go to the local playground and play with the other kids there until it got dark and everyone left.

 As he got older he found himself attracted to the fields where the boys would play football when the weather was good and the skate parks where they’d hide under the cover of the ramps when it wasn’t.

As he got older still, realising that he didn’t quite fit in with the kids his age anymore, he took to the streets of wherever they were living at that moment. He found walking helped to clear his mind and to think and if ever felt lonely he always found his way to a café, where he’d scrape together the change he had been collecting to buy a cup of tea, even if it meant he couldn’t eat that night, and struck up conversation with the owner or some of the other customers. And, if he really didn’t have enough money, he’d go sit on the benches in the centre of town and talk to the people already sitting there.

 Sometimes the people didn’t want anything to do with him and other times the people were more than happy to sit and chat away to him and Niall liked that. It felt good to talk to someone who didn’t know him- didn’t know that he was a bad kid, didn’t know that he was struggling at school, didn’t know his Dad  _hurt_  him- and that meant that in those few minutes he could be whoever he wanted.

 He’d come up with these stories, weave tales about imaginary family and friends, what he had been doing that day and where he was going to go next.

 It was his way of escape and sometimes he thought the only thing that got him through the bad days were these few minutes with strangers when he could be whoever he wanted to be.

 But now, with the Westerns, it suddenly wasn’t okay for him to leave the house when he wanted to go on these walks. They wanted to know where he was going, who he was going to see, and what he was going to do and when he just shrugged and told them that he didn’t know they refused to let him out unless one of the twins went with him.

 Niall liked the twins well enough but he didn’t want to spend all his time out of school with them.

 Niall was used to spending huge chunks of time alone and it felt suffocating to be constantly surrounded by people all the time.

 So, sometimes, he’d forget to ask permission and slip from the door when no one was looking, even if it meant that he got told off later, and he’d go on his walks.

 There were other things that he did that’d make the Westerns annoyed and some it he understood because it had been the kind of thing that had made his Dad angry, too, but there was other stuff that left him puzzled.

 For as long as he could remember it had been wrong to ask for food, even if his stomach had hurt and he had felt dizzy, and he had gotten so used to ignoring the feeling of hunger that he didn’t even question it anymore.

 But, for some reason, it’d make Mrs Western sad when she heard his stomach rumble and she’d always tell him that it was okay to get a snack if he wanted one. He’d just smile at her and tell her thank you but he wasn’t stupid. He knew it was wrong to help himself to anything from the fridge or the cupboards whether he was hungry or not.

 Some of his worst beatings had been because of just that.

 Another thing they didn’t like was the way he’d pick up any money he’d see lying around the house and hide it away in his bedroom.

 They called is stealing but he called it survival.

 It was what he had always had to do.

 He never took much, keeping away from any notes he’d see because he knew for a fact that they’d be missed, but pound coins and fifty pence pieces? They were fair game as far as Niall was concerned.

 He’d collect and collect and then on the way home from school, the days when he decided to walk instead of taking the bus with the twins like he was supposed to, he’d stop in a shop and buy as many packets of crisps as he could afford and, once he got back to the Western’s house, he’d stash them away under his bed along with everything else he was saving. 

 The Kit Kats and bottles of water from his lunches, the sweets Mrs Western would treat them with when they finished their homework, the cereal bars they’d sometimes be given if dinner was going to be late.

 Because who knew when they were going to snap, get tired of him, and send him back to his Dad?

 He needed to be prepared.

 But, despite all that, life with the Westerns was good.

 They gave him three meals a day in such portions that Niall struggled, after a lifetime of eating the bare minimum to survive, to finish. He always would, though, even if it made him throw up minutes later.

 They had also given him his own room with his own bed and drawers and they made it clear that this was his for as long as he was with them and that they wouldn’t come in without his permission and Niall, so unused to having anything to himself, let alone a space that he could call his own, left his door wide open at all times, even while he slept.

 They didn’t even complain when the days turned into weeks and Niall was still with them.

 Prospective foster parents would come around sometimes, chat to Niall and the Westerns, but then Niall would never see them again.

 He didn’t mind too much.

 He was happy with the Westerns, probably the happiest he had ever been in his life, because, perhaps the best thing about them, even better than getting his own room and three meals a day, was the fact that they never, ever hit him.

 No matter how angry he made them, no matter how hard he pushed or how many rules he ignored, they never once did they raise a hand against him.

 It didn’t mean that Niall ever stopped expecting it, that he ever stopped flinching away from raised voices, but he felt safer now, more secure.

And, for the first time in his memory, Niall could look in the mirror and see himself.

 Just himself and not the bruises he felt had once defined him.

-

 Harry would never admit it.

 Not to anyone.

 Not when he had such hard time admitting it to himself.

 But, he kind of thought that Niall was okay.

 And just okay.

 Definitely nothing more.

 It had taken him weeks to come to that conclusion.

 Weeks of watching every move that he made, seeing what pushed his buttons and what made him smile and laugh, who he liked and who he didn’t.

 And maybe Harry had followed him a little.

  _A lot._

 But he just had to know.

 Was Niall a bad person? Did he deserve Harry being mean to him? Or had Harry…

 Had Harry been  _wrong_?

 Harry didn’t like being wrong but the conversation he had had with Mr Malik wouldn’t leave him alone, playing over and over again in his mind.

 Harry had never thought of himself as a bully.

 He could be mean, yeah, and he could hit out but only against those who had wronged him first.

 And Niall had been the one to start off the whole thing by taking Harry’s seat.

 What Harry had done was only right, wasn’t it?

 Wasn’t it?

 He wasn’t sure anymore and it scared him.

 So that’s why, every break time, every lunchtime, between lessons, Harry trailed Niall.

 He never spoke to him or even gave the blonde any indication that he was following him, he made sure to keep his distance, but he was always there.

 Watching.

 It didn’t take him long to work out that Niall didn’t really have any friends.

 Some days he would bounce from group to group, chatting to everyone but never really fitting in with them.

 He was too loud, too unpredictable, and, once he wasn’t so  _new_ anymore, their classmates quickly became annoyed or bored with him.

 So, Niall would wander the hallways and the school grounds and Harry would follow him.

 There never really seemed any particular route or destination, Niall just seemed happy enough to go wherever his feet would take him. He didn’t even stop to eat his lunch sometimes and so Harry learnt to eat while walking, as well.

 In lessons Harry would watch, too.

 It didn’t take him long to work out Niall’s moods, when the smaller boy was in the mood for messing about or when he was becoming frustrated by the work the teacher  had given them or when he just really couldn’t concentrate on anything.

 There were tell-tale signs that Harry found he picked up on and, almost without thinking, he reacted to them.

 When Niall was feeling spacey then Harry would come up with some way of getting his attention, dragging him from whatever he had been thinking about.

 When Niall was feeling angry then Harry would dig at him and provoke him until Niall snapped and retaliated with harsh words that would remove any trace of irritation the blonde had been feeling.

 He had learnt early on that Niall forgave quickly.

 What he liked doing most, though, was making Niall laugh.

 He didn’t understand why, he’d just do it.

 Anything to hear that stupid and annoying sound, even if it meant getting into trouble.

 It was worth it, he decided.

 Though, it made him feel funny.

 It was like his insides twisted and his heart felt like it was going to explode whenever he saw Niall smile or heard him laugh.

 And he really, really didn’t understand it.

 He just reacted.

 He wanted to make Niall laugh all the time.

 Because, yeah, Harry might have been wrong.

 Niall was okay, after all.


	7. Chapter Seven

 The day Mrs Western found his food stash was his last in their house.

 They tried to tell him it was a coincidence.

 He didn’t believe them.

 He knew hiding food was one of the worst things he could do.

 He still had scars from when his Dad had found him hiding crisps in his school bag.

 But he had had to do it, he really had, because he had needed to be prepared.

 Just in case.

 Always,  _just in case_.

 It was a Friday when it happened and he had overslept.

 He had never overslept before but the knowledge that they wouldn’t hit him had made him lax, had weakened him, and no amount of calling by Mrs Western had been able to wake him.

 Mrs Western had knocked on his open door before entering, moving to his bed to shake him awake and calling his name once more, telling him that he was going to be late for school.

 Niall had jumped awake at her touch- he might have felt comfortable enough to test their patience but he never really let go of the fear of human contact- just as her feet had crunched down on something sticking out from under his bed.

 He had known immediately what it was.

 A packet of crisps.

 And, oh God, he was such an idiot! She was going to hurt him now, she was going to hit him and beat him and scream at him for being so selfish because how dare he hide food from her and her family?

 He had frozen in terror as she had given him a questioning look before crouching and looking under the bed.

 He flinched away from her as she stood again but she had only sighed and told him to get ready for school.

 He had thought she sounded angry so he had done as he was told immediately, not even waiting for her to leave the room before he was shedding his pyjamas and pulling his school uniform on in a rush.

 “Don’t forget to brush your teeth.” She had told him and he had tripped up over himself in his hurry to get to the bathroom.

 Breakfast had waited for him on the table like normal and he had bolted it down, waiting, just waiting, for her to lash out and hurt him.

 She hadn’t.

 And so he had spent the entire day at school tense and bouncing with nervous energy.

 He had been certain that once he returned to the Westerns’ that that was when he was going to be punished and this whole waiting and worrying was part of it.

 His Dad had done it sometimes, too, those days when he had felt particularly cruel.

 He had liked to make Niall squirm and flinch and  _fear_.

 He knew he should have expected the same from Mrs Western because life had been too good, too perfect, and something had to go wrong.

 It had to.

 Because Niall knew he was a bad kid, he had had it drilled into him for as long as he could remember, by his Dad, by his teachers, by the others at school, and he deserved everything he got.

 “What’s wrong with you today?” Mr Tomlinson had asked him during second lesson. “Did you forget to take your ADHD medication this morning?”

 Niall hadn’t answered and had instead let himself be goaded into an argument with Harry which had resulted in him being sent out of Mr Malik’s English lesson.

 By third lesson he had found himself in inclusion and hadn’t even been allowed out for lunch which meant he had missed his session Liam.

 That had made him sad and he hadn’t understood why.

 Then, when the day had finally ended, he had returned to the Westerns’ to find his bags packed and his social worker waiting to take him away.

 “I’m sorry.” He said once he realised what was about to happen. “I’m sorry.”

 “You haven’t done anything wrong.” Mrs Western told him but he knew it was a lie.

 “Please don’t make me go.” Niall nearly begged. “I’ll be good, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I promise.”

 “You knew this was only a temporary placement, Niall.” His social worker said to him, exasperatedly. “There’s no point getting upset about it.”

 “This isn’t because of the food.” Mrs Western tried to soothe him. “You’re not in trouble for that.”

 Niall didn’t believe her.

 This was his punishment.

 He was being sent away.

 He quickly said his goodbyes, not looking in Mrs Western’s direction once, and then his picked up the two carrier bags that held all his worldly possessions and followed his social worker to the door.

 “Look after yourself, Niall.” Mrs Western called after him but he ignored her.

 She had made this happen.

 The car journey to his new house lasted only 15 minutes but to Niall it seemed to last a lifetime.

 He didn’t speak to his social worker and the social worker didn’t try to make conversation as she texted on her phone while she drove.

 His new family lived on the edge of town, in an area that Niall had never been to before, and he tried to imagine himself living there.

 He couldn’t.

 The street of houses the social worker had pulled into was unlike anything Niall could have imagined. The houses were big, a lot bigger than the Westerns’, and they all had perfect gardens and long drives with shiny and expensive cars parked on them.

 The social worker parked outside the biggest house, right in the middle of the street, and switched the engine off.

 “Well, here we are.” She said, nodding her head at the house.

 “There?” Niall asked with wide eyes.

 “Yeah, it’s a nice place, isn’t it?”

 “Are they millionaires?”

 “Millionaires? What? No, the Millers aren’t millionaires, they just have really good jobs. They’re both doctors. They both work at the local hospital.”

 Niall frowned.

 He didn’t like doctors.

 “They’re nice.” She told him. “They’ve already got three kids, all your age, all adopted. You should like it here.”

 Niall nodded and followed her from the car, not quite what to think, and accepted his carrier bags from the boot of the car when she gave them to him.

 An older lady with a kind face answered the door within seconds of his social worker ringing the bell and ushered them inside.

 She greeted his social worker quickly before turning to him, a soft smile on her face, “so, you must be Niall. It’s nice to meet you.”

 “You, too, Dr Miller.” He replied, quietly, looking everywhere but at her.

 “Call me Julie.” She told him. “‘Dr Miller’ is a little too formal for home. Leave your bags in here, sweetie, and then we’ll go through to the lounge and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the family.”

 Niall nodded and did as he was told, not wanting to get into trouble so early on at this house.

 Julie led him and the social worker through one of the doors to their left and into the lounge and Niall couldn’t help but feel suddenly shy.

 This house was too big and looked too much like the perfect houses from magazines and catalogues and he knew he wouldn’t, he  _couldn’t_ , fit in here. 

 Introductions were quick but Niall barely paid attention.

 Dan Miller seemed as nice as his wife, if not a little cold, and their children were polite and welcoming enough.

 Even though they had introduced themselves then, Niall didn’t learn the names of his new ‘brothers’ and ‘sister’ until dinner, after the social worker had left him, after they had discussed school, after they had given him a tour of the house, after they had explained the rules, and he found himself starting to loosen up.

 He learned that Craig, the oldest of the three at 18, was doing his A-Levels at the school down the road, the same one that the other two attended, and that he hoped to go to university next year.

 He found that Katie was actually sort of nice once she had stopped glaring at him and joined in conversation. She was 17 and kind of pretty, Niall decided, if not a little mean looking. He wasn’t quite sure how to take her.

 His favourite of the three, though, was Will. Will was the same age as Niall, although he was three or four inches taller, and he laughed and joked with Niall all the way through dinner and made him feel at home.

 He taught Niall how to play a game on the X-Box in the games’ room and didn’t get angry at him once for not being very good. He was patient and funny and didn’t seem to mind that Niall had taken up his entire evening.

He helped Niall carry his bags up to the bedroom he had been given once Julie told them it was time for bed and Niall had accepted, even if he didn’t need the help. 

 Will was nice and Niall didn’t feel so sad he had left the Westerns’ house anymore.

 Or at least he hadn’t.

 Because when Will suddenly pushed him against the wall, his fist curling around Niall’s throat, he wished he could go back.

 “This is  _my_  home.” Will hissed at him, tightening his grip and making Niall splutter and choke. “And they’re  _my_  family. I’m not going to let you steal them from me, okay? You better find a way to make yourself disappear or I’m going to kill you.”

-

 “Well, what do you think?”

 “I finished it.”

 “You did.” Liam replied, giving the younger boy a proud smile. “It might have taken us a while but we got there in the end.”

 “I finished a book.” Niall said, his voice holding a note of amazement, a wide grin lighting up his whole face. “I finished it.”

 “You should be really proud of yourself.” Liam told him, matching Niall’s smile easily. “You worked really hard.”

 “I can hardly believe it.”

 Liam laughed and watched as Niall flicked through the pages of the book, still grinning madly, “what did you think of the story?”

 “Yeah, it was alright. For a kid’s book.”

 “Just alright? Niall, mate, it’s a classic, I promise you!”

 Niall shrugged and gave him a cheeky grin before looking back down at the book.

 Liam shook his head in amusement before suddenly blushing as he tried to work up the courage to get his next words out.

 Niall shot him a curious look, not used to the silences between them, “what’s up?”

 Liam was sure his face was bright red but he forced his words passed his lips, “I was wondering if you, er, well, if you to come round to mine after school on Friday and watch the film version. Of the book, that is.” Liam couldn’t quite meet Niall’s eyes as he added, “it’s got Johnny Depp in it.”

 “There’s a film version?” Niall asked, either completely unaware of Liam’s discomfort or ignoring it. “So, you can see all the chocolate and the sweets and stuff? Why didn’t we watch that first?”

 “I didn’t think of it.” Liam told him with a shrug. “It was my Mum’s idea, actually, she wants to meet you.”

 “Your Mum wants to meet me? Why?”

 Liam shrugged again, “I’ve no idea.”

 And he really didn’t.

 He had no idea why his Mum wanted to meet Niall because, yeah, he might have mentioned him a few times to her, okay, well, maybe more than a few times, but Liam didn’t talk about him anymore than his other friends.

 He swore he didn’t.

 “Yeah, alright then.”

 Liam was grinning again now, “really?”

 “I’ll have to ask Dan and Julie if it’s okay first.” Niall told him and he suddenly looked upset. “But I don’t think they’ll mind, they’re both pretty busy.”

 “Mr and Mrs Western?”

 “No. Dan and Julie are my new foster parents.”

“When did that happen?”

 “Friday after school.” Niall told him, glumly.

 “And what are they like?” Liam asked with a frown, not liking Niall’s change in mood.

 “They really nice.”

 “You don’t seem too happy.”

 Niall shrugged.

 Liam was curious but he knew not to push the younger teen into telling him what was wrong, that’d only make him clam up.

 He had learnt that early on.

 No, it was better to sit and wait and let Niall talk about what he wanted when he wanted.

 His train of thought could be difficult to follow at times but Liam had gotten used to it in the last month since they had started doing their sessions. Niall would ask him questions, he always did, and Liam knew to answer them honestly without asking anything in return.

 Niall would open up eventually.

 He always did.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

 Liam nodded, “I’ve got two older sisters.”

 “Will they mind me coming over on Friday?”

 “They’re older than I am and they’re both away at university at the moment. It’ll just be us and my Mum on Friday, Dad’s working late.”

 “Do you love your sisters?”

 “They drive me insane sometimes but, yeah, I love them. They’re family.”

 “I have an older brother, you know.” Niall told him. “He’s called Greg.”

 “I didn’t know that.”

 “I don’t talk about him.”

 “Does he still live with your Dad?”

 Niall shrugged, suddenly looking angry, “I don’t know where he lives. He left home when I was 10 and I haven’t seen him since.”

 Liam didn’t know what to say.

 “I think I might hate him.”

 Liam nodded but stayed silent.

 Niall stood and starting pacing the length of the classroom like a caged animal, “he left me behind. He left me with our Dad, even though he knew…he knew what Dad did.”

 “Maybe he was scared.” Liam murmured with wide eyes, not sure how he was meant to take Niall’s words.

 “He’s my big brother! He was supposed to keep me safe but instead he left me with  _him_ and  _them_.”

 Niall looked close to tears and Liam struggled to find something to say.

 “Why does everything have to be so hard?” Niall asked, his voice cracking, as he came to a sudden stop.

 “What do you mean?”

 “I was happy with the Westerns and then they moved me because I did something and now there’s going to be a psych-psychologist in school for the rest of the week, following me around and testing me.”

 “Testing you? A psychologist? Why?”

 “They think there’s something wrong with me.” Niall told him, unhappily. “Mr Malik and Mr Tomlinson, they think that if I have this word attached to me that it’s going to make my life easier but it’s not. It’s not, Liam.”

 Niall was crying now and the sight hurt Liam’s heart.

 Without thinking, he stood and moved to Niall and pulled the smaller boy into a tight hug, making his body stiffen.

 “I’m not going to hurt you.” He whispered in Niall’s ear. “I promise. I’m not going to hurt you.”

 It seemed to take forever until Niall finally let out a long breath and relaxed.

 Tentative arms wrapped themselves around Liam’s waist and Liam just held him tighter and rubbed soothing circles on Niall’s back as he sobbed.

  It didn’t take long for Niall to calm down and as soon as he started to squirm in Liam’s arms he let him go.

 Niall wiped at his face with his sleeve and moved to stand next to the window, though, he never looked away from Liam, “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t be sorry, Niall, we all get a bit upset sometimes.” Liam told him with a shrug and a smile. “And you’ve had a lot of stuff happen to you recently, it’s normal to feel sad sometimes.”

 Niall nodded but he didn’t say anything, his eyes lowering to the floor.

 “We’re…we’re friends, right?” Liam asked him.

 Niall’s head snapped up and he said, “yeah, we’re friends.”

“Then you know you can always talk to me, right?” Liam smiled at him. “Whatever’s happening, I’m always going to be here for you.”

 Niall eyed him, biting his bottom lip nervously, as he tried to figure out what Liam meant, if he could trust him.

 Liam just forced himself to keep on smiling, “I’m serious, Niall, whatever happens.”

 “Do you promise?”

 “I promise.”

-

 Zayn sighed and rubbed at his eyes as the educational psychologist continued to drone on and on, clearly a man in love with the sound of his own voice.

 Louis shot him a quick look and they shared the briefest of smiles, obviously thinking the same thing.

 They were in Sandra Heppell’s office once again with the woman herself, who was the school’s special educational needs co-ordinator, or SENCO, sat at her desk and the three men sat in chairs around it.

 The meeting was dragging on and Zayn found himself growing impatient.

 The educational psychologist had already confirmed what they had guessed.

 Niall was dyslexic.

 Severely so.

 He was going to need hours of one-on-one with both English and maths teachers if he was going to have any hope of passing his GCSEs for those subjects, two of the three core ones, and the most vital in terms of future employment, in the summer.

 That wasn’t what bothered Zayn.

 He was already thinking of the long-term, thinking beyond this summer, and to the rest of Niall’s life.

 Looking up bus times.

 Paying his bills.

 Reading the newspaper.

 He was going to struggle with so much with everyday life if he never learnt how to cope with his dyslexia.

 “I suggest taking the child out of all of his lessons.” The educational psychologist continued, the air of superiority to his words grated on Zayn’s nerves. “Apart the three core subjects, of course.”

 “All of his lessons?” Louis asked with a frown. “Even music? You saw how well he does in that class, Niall has natural talent and he really enjoys music. Do you really think it’s a good idea to take him out of music?”

 “That’s what I suggest.” The man said with a careless shrug. “But you know the child better than I do.”

 “Niall.” Zayn said.

 “I beg your pardon?”

 “His name is Niall.” Zayn explained, not liking the man’s tone.

 “Yes, well, we’ll have to arrange an appointment with him and his parents-.”

 “He’s in foster care.” Zayn cut him off, shaking his head.

 Had the man not even read Niall’s file?

 “His foster parents then…” The man continued but Zayn zoned out of the rest of the conversation.

 He had heard enough and his mind was already whirring as he tried to work out a new timetable for Niall in his head.

 Extra English lessons wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Louis was trained to work with teens like Niall with dyslexia and other learning disabilities and, as he already had lessons with him, all Zayn would have to do would be to find them a room where they could work.

 That would mean leaving Harry by himself in a few more lessons each week but Zayn wasn’t too worried about that.

 Harry had really matured over the past month or so and had actually started treating Niall like a human being. Even if they did argue a lot, they also messed around, too, and joked with one another. Louis often complained that they spurred each other on into misbehaving but he was also glad that they were friends now.

 Perhaps a bit more, Zayn mused, at least on Harry’s part. They had both seen him trailing Niall around the school like a lovesick puppy.

 It was a wonder that Niall hadn’t noticed. 

  Zayn tried to get his thoughts back on track because, really, his students’ love lives didn’t really concern him. 

 Maths was where the difficulties were going to be found.

 As far as Zayn was aware, there were only two teachers in the school who had the specialist training that working with Niall would require and both of them had busy timetables. Trying to find hours for extra maths was going to be a nightmare.

 Zayn had already worked out that he wasn’t going to be popular in the staffroom for the next few weeks.

 But, that was okay.

 He’d do anything for any one of his kids, even if it meant stepping on a few toes to get it done.

 “Well, what do you think?” Louis asked him once the meeting was over and they returned to the empty staffroom to pick up their things before heading home for the weekend.

“Apart from him being a dick? Yeah, it wasn’t anything we weren’t already expecting.”

 “You’re right.” Louis said with a shrug. “It’s just a lot, you know? I think Niall might struggle with all of this, he’s been kind of off this week, and I think it might just be getting to be too much.”

 “What do you mean ‘off’?” Zayn asked, his words a mixture of curiosity and worry, as he slipped his coat on.

 “I don’t know… It’s hard to explain.” Louis frowned. “Just, maybe, not as chatty as he was before.”

 Zayn gave him a tired smile, “I think you’re worrying too much, Lou.”

 “Maybe.” Louis said with another shrug. “I don’t know… I just get the feeling that even if everything wasn’t okay, he wouldn’t tell us, you know?”

 Zayn nodded, “yeah, I know. We’re just going to have to keep an eye on him.”

 “Well, we won’t be the only ones.” Louis said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

 Zayn snorted, knowing exactly what Louis was implying, “you have to admit, it’s kind of cute.”

 “In a creepy-stalker kind of way, yeah, I suppose it is.” Louis’ smirk was full-blown now. “I wonder if he’s even realised…”

 “Probably not. This is Harry we’re talking about, he probably won’t realise he’s got a crush until one of us point it out to him.”

 “Or Niall makes a move.”

 “I don’t really see that happening, do you?”

 It was Louis’ turn to snort, “no, I don’t think so. Niall’s probably more oblivious than Harry is.”

 Zayn shook his head, “well, this could definitely get interesting.”

 “You’re telling me.” Louis clapped a hand on Zayn’s shoulder, “now, are you giving me a lift home or what?”

 “Do you even need to ask?”


	8. Chapter Eight

“He’s cute, I see why you like him.”

“What are you talking about?” Liam asked, pulling the fridge open and grabbing a couple of cans of coke.

 “A bit skinny, though, but I’m sure he’ll fill out as he gets older.”

 “Mum.” Liam said, raising his eyebrows at his Mother. “What are you on about?”

 She shrugged at him and gave him a smile he didn’t quite like the look of, “Niall’s a cute boy, funny, too, I can see why you have a crush on him.”

 Liam’s eyes widened and his heart seemed to stop beating.

 How did she-?

“It’s okay, you know.”

 “I don’t-.”

“Oh, please.” His Mum cut him off. “I know  _you_ , Liam, and I know when you fancy someone. You were the exactly same way with Danielle last year. Don’t even try and deny it.”

 “I- I don’t- I’m not gay.”

 “What does that have to do with anything? You either like someone or you don’t and, by the way you were blushing earlier on, I’d say you definitely like him.”

 “Mum!” Liam hissed, shooting a nervous glance in the direction of the living room where Niall was sat, watching the TV and waiting for Liam to come back with drinks. “Keep your voice down, he’ll hear you!”

 She grinned, “so, you do like him then?”

 He put the cans of coke down on the side and closed the fridge and let out a long sigh, “I don’t know! I’ve never felt this way about anybody, let alone another guy. And…and what if he doesn’t like me back?”

 “Why wouldn’t he like you back? You’re a good-looking boy, kind and considerate-.”

 “You’ve got to say that because you’re my Mum.” He gave her a small smile.

 “Maybe.” She joked. “But I also know it’s the truth.”

 “What am I going to do?” Liam asked her, glumly.

 “Just tell him how you feel.” She said. “You never know what might happen if you do.”

 “What if he hates me?” Liam frowned. “Or he doesn’t want to be friends anymore?”

 “Then he’s not worth your time, baby.” She told him and pulled him into a hug, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

 “That’s easy for you to say.”

 “I know.” She gave him another squeeze before letting go. “Oh, hi, Niall, sweetheart, I didn’t see you there. Is everything okay?”

 Liam span on his foot, his eyes wide, and he saw Niall stood awkwardly in the doorway.

 “Yeah, Liam was just taking a while and I thought…well, I dunno.” He shrugged.

 “Sorry about that.” Liam said, picking up the cans of coke and ignoring the look that his Mum was giving him. “We were just having a quick chat.”

 “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” She said with a smile. “There’s money on the dining table if you boys want to get a takeaway or there’s plenty of stuff in the cupboards and the fridge if you want to cook instead, just don’t make too much of a mess, okay?”

 “Thanks, Mum.”

 “Yeah, thanks, Mrs Payne.”

 “Oh, Niall, call me Karen, please. All of Liam’s other friends do.”

 Niall shot Liam a look before smiling, “okay, then. Thank you, Karen.”

“I should be back at about nine, should give you plenty of time to watch your film, and then I’ll give you a lift home, Niall. Does that sound okay?”

 Niall nodded, “yeah, that sounds great. Thank you.”

 She gave them both a wide smile and a wave before exiting the kitchen and heading in the direction of the front door.

 “Come on, Nialler.” Liam said once they had heard the front door open and then slam shut, “let’s put the film on.”

 Niall followed Liam back into the living room and took his seat on the sofa once again as Liam put the cans of coke on the coffee table and started to fiddle with the DVD player.

 Liam could feel his heat rise in his cheeks as Niall watched him and he struggled to find something to say as he took the DVD out of its box.

 “She really loves you, you know.” Niall said, suddenly.

 “What?”

 “Your Mum. You can tell by the way she looks at you.”

 Liam was sure he was blushing bright red, “she can be a bit soppy sometimes.”

 “It’s nice.” Niall told him and Liam felt sad.

 Niall probably didn’t remember what it was like to have a mother.

 Or maybe even a loving parent.

 Liam still didn’t know why he had been taken away from his Dad.

 He might have guessed but he didn’t  _know_.

 “Do you… do you miss your Mum?”

 Niall shrugged, “she died a long time ago, I don’t really remember much about her, to be honest.”

 “I’m sorry.” Liam said, not knowing what else to say.

 “You said that last time.” Niall told him with a small smile.

 “I did.”

 The opening credits to the film started to play and Liam joined Niall on the sofa.

 He passed Niall one of the cans of coke before opening his own, “I thought we could watch the film and then get some food in, unless you’re hungry now.”

 Niall gave him a look that he couldn’t quite read and said, “yeah, that’s fine.”

 Liam frowned but he didn’t say anything.

 The film began to play and Liam watched as Niall quickly became absorbed in it, his eyes shining and his laugh echoing around the room.

 Liam’s heart thudded painfully in his chest as Niall twisted in his seat and fidgeted, biting his finger nails in that way that Liam found irresistible, and when he glanced at Liam, which he did every now and then, always seeming to be able to catch Liam staring, he would give him smiles bright enough to make Liam’s insides flip and twist.

 And Liam really didn’t know what it was about Niall that he liked so much.

He was, like his Mum had said, cute but there was nothing that immediately caught the eye. Nothing that should have him feeling like he was, anyway.

 Because Niall had his faults.

 Liam could see that.

 He was small for his age and scrawny, his teeth were crooked and his lips a bit too thin.  

 He could be annoying, too.

 Too hyper, too easily distracted, too closed about certain topics and completely open about others.

 And yet…

 Liam couldn’t bring himself to care.

 There was something about him that drew Liam to him and just made him feel so unbelievably happy…

 Because Niall saw him for who he was.

 Not as some goody two shoes, geek or whatever other labels that others tried to stamp him with.

 He saw Liam as Liam and accepted him for that.

No questions, no expectations.

 Just acceptance.

 How could Liam not love him for-.

 Wait.

 What?

 Love?

 “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost or something.” Niall told him, pulling him from his thoughts.

 “Wh- what?” Liam stuttered.

 Niall frowned and leaned a bit closer to Liam, so close that their bodies were almost touching, “are you okay?”

 “Yeah.” Liam whispered, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

 “Are you sure?” Niall asked.

 And that’s when Liam made what he was sure to be a fatal mistake.

 He lifted his eyes to meet Niall’s and the world stopped.

 He didn’t think, he didn’t breathe, he couldn’t do anything but stare into those blue eyes.

 Then, after what seemed to be an eternity, he closed the gap between their faces and pressed his lips against the younger teen’s.

 It lasted for the shortest of moments before he pulled back and forced himself to look away from Niall’s eyes.

 He dropped his head into his hands and tangled his fingers in his hair, unable to get rid of the image of Niall’s blank face from his mind, and he was sure that he had ruined everything between them, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

 “You kissed me.” Niall whispered.

 “I’m sorry.” Liam repeated.

 “Why did you do it?” Niall asked him in a tone of voice that Liam couldn’t work out.

 Liam let out a long sigh and committed himself to digging himself deeper into the hole he had already found himself in, “I like you.” 

 “You like me?” Niall sounded confused now. “What kind of like?”

 “Like, fancy you.” Liam told him with an unhappy shrug. “I have a crush on you.”

 “Oh.” Niall said.

 He didn’t sound angry so Liam chanced looking at him and their eyes met again.

 Niall looked worried, Liam thought, and perhaps scared, as well.

 Liam could understand that because he was terrified.

 “It… It’s okay if you don’t, er, if you don’t feel the same way.” Liam told him, finally breaking the silence that had been crushing them. “We can forget this ever happened. I was stupid and I never should have-.”

 “You like me.” Niall cut him off, an uncertain smile tugging at his lips. “Why would I want to forget that?”

 Liam gave him a disbelieving look, “what- what are you trying to say?”

 Niall just shook his head and joined his lips with Liam’s.

 Liam let him control the kiss, surprised at how experienced the smaller boy seemed to be, and let himself be pushed backwards onto the sofa as Niall crawled onto his lap and snaked his tongue across Liam’s bottom lip.

 Liam melted into his touch and his brain seemed to shut down, unable to process what was happening, because  _shit_.

 Niall was kissing him!

 Niall liked him back!

And, Jesus, it was good,  _so good_.

 But then he started to panic when Niall started to fiddle with the button of his jeans, rubbing his hand against the growing bulge in Liam’s pants.

 He pulled back from the kiss, “Niall,  _shit_ , what are you doing?”

 Niall gave him a puzzled look, “isn’t this what you wanted?”

 “Yes!” Liam breathed because he was sure he had never wanted anything so much in his life.

 And even as he thought that he knew it wasn’t true.

 He wanted everything that Niall could give him.

 As a friend.

 As a boyfriend.

 As a lover.

 He knew he couldn’t have that if they did nothing more than have a quick fumble on the sofa.

 “Then what’s wrong?” Niall asked, pulling Liam’s zip down.

 Liam covered Niall’s hands with his own larger ones, stopping their movement, “I-I, well, I don’t want to rush things, okay? I really like you, Niall.”

 Niall just looked even more confused.

 “Maybe we can go slow? Go on a couple of dates and stuff, get to know each other out of school-.”

 “I don’t get it.” Niall cut him off. “You mean like boyfriends?”

 “What?” Liam asked and then he grinned. “Yeah, like boyfriends. If you want to, of course.”

 “Okay.” Niall said, simply, giving Liam the smallest of smiles.

 And when they kissed this time it was slow and sweet and everything Liam could have wanted.

-

 There was something different about Niall on Monday.

 Something had happened at the weekend and Harry wanted to know what it was.

 Because he seemed happier, more carefree, more willing to sit and listen to whatever the teachers were going on about.

 Harry wasn’t sure if he liked it.

 Because he definitely didn’t understand it.

 What the hell could have happened to make him like this?

 And what was Harry supposed to do to get his attention?

 Niall wasn’t interested in arguing or with messing about or anything but staring into space and smiling.

 Smiling.

What the fuck did he have to smile about?

 They were in school!

 And Harry knew he wasn’t the only one to notice it because Mr Tomlinson had teased him during first lesson and asked what had made him so happy and Niall had just blushed and shrugged and doodled in his exercise book instead of doing work.

 He did the same in second lesson, too, pretending to work but Harry could see that his worksheets were covered in rubbish little drawings of people holding hands and smiling.  

 And Harry didn’t understand.

 But he didn’t get to ask Niall any questions because in third lesson Niall wasn’t there, something about having to do more maths with Mr Peet and Mr Tomlinson wouldn’t tell him more than that, no matter how much he asked and sulked.

 And it didn’t even matter that he had Mr Tomlinson all to himself again.

 He had grown used to having the man’s attention being constantly divided between himself and Niall and then to have it wholly back upon himself made him feel uncomfortable and angry.

 Because Niall was meant to be there, suffering through another pointless RE lesson with Harry, and not off in some other part of the school where Harry couldn’t see him or talk to him.

 He was back for fourth lesson and his mood had changed and Harry had delighted in prodding and poking him, winding him up, until the blonde had snapped.

 Harry had felt something twist in his stomach when angry blue eyes had met his own and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from pushing and pushing until Mr Tomlinson had finally dragged him from the classroom for a ‘cool off’ session.

 At lunch Harry followed Niall like he usually did, a scowl on his face, because Niall wasn’t keeping to his usual route around the school but had instead headed for the entrance to the sixth form centre, a separate part of the main building, close to the staff room, and somewhere where Harry had never been before.

His scowl had only deepened when he saw that brown haired kid, the one that Niall spent Tuesday and Friday lunchtimes with, doing reading or something, he wasn’t exactly sure, waiting for him.

 Niall smiled at the taller boy and blushed when a quick kiss was planted on his lips and his hands were given a gentle squeeze.

 And that was when Harry saw red.

 Because Niall-.

 Niall was  _his_.

 His friend and his alone.

 And he wasn’t allowed to be a puff.

 No fucking way.

 Because being gay was sick and disgusting and Harry knew it was true because he had felt the bile rise in his throat and his heart clench painfully in his chest at the sight of the two.

 He didn’t think as he launched himself at Niall, fierce blows landing on the smaller boy’s face before they had even hit the floor, and he pinned him to the floor with his superior weight.

 “Fucking queer.” He ground out between clenched teeth, landing punch after punch. “Fucking faggot. I hate you, I fucking hate you, you’re a worthless piece of shit and-.”

 And then strong arms were pulling him backwards and he struggled and shouted and kicked out because he was so fucking angry.

 So  _hurt_.

 Niall had betrayed him!

 Had let them be friends without once even hinting at being anything but normal.

 How dare he?

 How fucking dare he?

 He began to frantically claw at the arms around his waist as he was dragged away from Niall, wanting nothing more than to hit and kick and  _hurt_  the blonde, and pushed into a nearby classroom where they let go of him.

 Harry whirled around to see one of the PE teachers blocking the door and his way back to Niall and he let out a scream of frustration.

 He raised a hand, prepared to fight his way out, when the teacher spoke, “you hit me and you’ll be expelled, Styles.”  

 Harry knew it was true but it didn’t help the anger that coursed through his veins and set his body on fire.

 Instead he turned and lashed out at the tables and chairs, destroying everything in his path until his arms shook and his chest heaved and he crumpled to the floor and sobbed.

-

 The door to the staff room banged open and Jane Williams, the physics teacher, stuck her head into the room and shouted, “fight!”

 Louis paused in pouring the boiling water from the kettle into his cup, frowning and catching Zayn’s eye as some of the bigger teachers raced from the room.

 “Malik, they’re two of yours.” She called to Zayn and both of them knew then.

 Harry and Niall.

 Louis followed Zayn from the room, cup of tea completely forgotten, his brows knit together in confusion.

 The two teens had been getting along so well recently, despite the way they wound each other up every now and then, what could have sparked them to into having a fight?

 He heard Harry’s screams of anger and frustration before he saw the boy.

 And Louis had never seen him look so  _furious_.

His face was bright red and his eyes were wild as he fought against the hold that Matt Jessop, one of the PE teachers, had around his waist, dragging him away from where the other teachers and curious students were grouped.

 Louis couldn’t help but note the blood that covered his knuckles and he suddenly felt sick.

 “Move out of the way. Now.” Zayn barked at some of the kids and they parted for him like the red sea.

 Louis almost wished they hadn’t.

 Because nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him.

 Niall was laid on the floor, limp and unresponsive, his face bruising and bleeding and swelling as a pool of red grew under his head.

 “Oh,  _fuck_.” Louis mumbled, not caring about the students surrounding him, and he froze for a moment in complete and utter shock.

  _What had Harry done?_

 But then his first aid training kicked in and he pushed his way through the bodies and to Niall, falling to his knees at the boy’s side.

 “Niall, can you hear me?” He asked, loudly, taking one of his hands in his own and giving it a hard squeeze. “Niall, it’s Mr Tomlinson.”

 There was no response and Louis let out a worried sigh.

 “Do you want to use my phone, sir?” One of the students asked, holding her mobile out for Louis to take. “To phone an ambulance or something?”

Zayn took the phone from her hands and began to dial, “thank you, Jess.”

 “Is he going to be okay?” Louis heard a quiet voice ask.

 It was then he noticed Liam, crouched on Niall’s other side, looking pale and his eyes wet with unshed tears.

 He had Niall’s other hand in his grasp, holding it tightly and rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.

 “I hope so.” Louis murmured as a groan came from the body between them.

 “Niall?” Liam asked.

 “Can you hear me, Niall?” Louis asked, staring intently at the blonde’s lax and painful face.

 Niall let out another noise and his hand twitched in Louis’ grasp.

“That’s it, try and open your eyes for me.” Louis encouraged.

 Niall’s eyelids flickered sleepily before dazed blue eyes finally opened and locked on Louis’s face.

 Then panic made the teen’s eyes widen and his breath come in short and uneven gasps.

 “Hey, you’re okay.” Louis told him, forcing himself to smile.

 But Niall was shaking his head, sluggishly, his eyes rolling and his mouth forming words almost too quiet to hear.

 “It’s okay.” Louis tried to soothe him, moving away from him slightly to give him some room and motioning for Liam to do the same. “You’re okay, no one is going to hurt you. You’re at school, you’re safe, it’s okay.”

 “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Niall whispered. “So-sorry.”

 “No one is going to hurt you.” Louis repeated, firmly, and Niall’s body slowly began to relax, his breath evening out and his grip on Louis’ hand loosening. “No one is going to hurt you, Niall. I promise you.”

 And he meant it. 


	9. Chapter Nine

 He had had to spend the night in the hospital.

 He hadn’t minded too much because it was better than being at the Miller’s house.

 It had been strange, though, to see Julie in what was obviously her natural environment as the head of A&E.

 She had been the first doctor he had seen on arriving at the hospital, still dazed and confused and gripping tightly at Mr Tomlinson’s hand, but she hadn’t been allowed to treat him due to their personal connections.

 It hadn’t stopped her from dropping by his bed whenever she had the chance, reading his chart and fussing over him.

 Mr Tomlinson had stayed with him for the rest of the afternoon as doctors had checked him over and nurses had cleaned and stitched his face and head.

 Harry’s fists had left him a mess. His nose was broken, his lip split, his eyes nearly swollen shut and there was a deep cut on the back of his head where it had come into contact with the tiled floor when Harry had jumped on him.

 Mr Tomlinson had, of course, asked him why Harry had attacked him and Niall had only shrugged.

 He hadn’t wanted to repeat the words that Harry had said because they were cruel and they had hurt too much.

 And what if… What if Mr Tomlinson acted the same way? Pushed him away and treated him badly because of it?

 What then?

 Niall liked Mr Tomlinson and he was pretty sure that Mr Tomlinson thought he was okay, too.

 Why else would he have stuck around?

 He hadn’t had to.

 And then Mr Malik turned up once school was finished and, after asking how Niall was feeling, he explained what the school was going to do about Harry.

 Julie had joined them then and listened with pursed lips as Mr Malik explained.

 The school was going to suspend Harry for two weeks and then put him in inclusion and away from Niall until Christmas at least.

 Mr Malik then asked if Niall wanted the police involved.

 Niall didn’t. He hated the police.

 They were bad. They did terrible things to good people without any reason at all. His Dad had told him that from a young age and he didn’t want to risk coming into contact with them.

 What if they wanted to lock him away, too?

 Julie wanted him to press charges but Niall hadn’t let her persuade him.

 She left then, called away to another emergency, and Mr Malik and Mr Tomlinson left not long afterwards, just as visiting hours began, and Niall didn’t mind because that was when Liam turned up.

 He winced at the sight of Niall’s face and Niall forced himself to smile despite the pain.

 “I’m sorry.” Liam said, over and over and over. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault! I shouldn’t have- I should have-! Shit, I’m sorry!”

 And Niall didn’t say anything because it was Liam’s fault.

 He had been the one to kiss him.

 But he couldn’t be mad at the older boy because Liam had said that he liked him.

 They had basically spent the whole weekend together after Liam’s confession on Friday night, going to watch a film at the cinema and then going out for a meal on Saturday, Liam’s treat, and then spending Sunday relaxing at Liam’s house, and not once had Liam asked him for more than kisses and holding hands.

 And it confused it.

 Didn’t Liam want to have sex with him?

Did he think he was ugly?

 Or was this all some big joke that Niall wasn’t in on?

 It wouldn’t be the first time.

 Because no one had ever been this way with him before.

 So sweet and kind and gentle.

 The other people he had been with, different faces with different names at different schools in different cities, had just taken what they wanted and left it at that.

 He wasn’t used to  _this_.

 He had never been anyone’s boyfriend before.

 And what Liam wanted from him…

 He was sure that that was something that only existed on TV.

 But he would play along with Liam’s game because being with Liam offered him an escape.

 Liam was good to him and his family, especially his mum, were nice and said that he was welcome at their house whenever he wanted.

 And he wanted nothing more.

 Because he hated life at the Miller’s.

 Dan and Julie were kind but distant, both busy with work, and although they told Niall that he could talk to them about anything he didn’t trust them.

 They hadn’t done anything to earn it.

Sure, they had bought him loads of new clothes, given him his own room and made sure that he had enough to eat but that was it.

 There was nothing apart dinner each night with either Dan or Julie, it seemed rare for them both to be home at the same time, that seemed designed to make them bond.

 The other kids, Craig and Katie, had been curious at first but had quickly become distracted by their own lives once the novelty of having him around had worn off.

 And Will.

 Will was so kind to him in front of the others, always seeming to be the perfect friend, the perfect  _brother_ , but once they were alone he would pinch and hit and threaten and Niall hated it.

 He knew he couldn’t fight back, though, because Will had told him that they’d send him back to his Dad if he did.

 Niall wondered if that might not be the better option because at least then he knew where he stood.

 Will was so changeable and that’s what scared Niall the most because one minute everything would be fine and the next he’d be clutching at his stomach and wondering what the hell had happened.

 But Liam, Liam offered an escape from that.

 It was nice to spend time with the older boy, away from what was supposed to be his home, and there was something about him that made Niall feel good.

 A weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that spread through his whole body and made him smile.

He liked that. It felt good.

 He wasn’t allowed to go see Liam on Tuesday, the day he got home from the hospital, though.

 Julie had taken the day off of work to keep an eye on him and his concussion and had restricted his movements to the house.

 Niall had been miserable the whole day.

 Because not only did he have a headache, his face hurt and he sometimes felt dizzy, he was also counting down the minutes until Will got home.

 He wasn’t going to be happy with Niall for taking all of Julie’s attention and Niall wasn’t sure what the other boy was going to do to him as punishment.

 He hid away in his bedroom when he heard the other kids come home and pretended to be asleep when Julie came to check on him, hoping that she’d warn them to stay awake.

 His heart fell when he heard someone let themselves into his room, not even knocking, and he knew it was Will.

 Who else would it be?

 He tensed under the covers as he heard the person step closer to the bed and he prepared himself for pain.

 But then the steps stopped and he heard a soft creak from the chair that belonged to his desk as the other person sat down.

 Then there was silence.

 Niall didn’t understand.

 What game was Will playing this time?

 He poked his head over the covers and locked wide eyes with the person in the chair.

 It wasn’t Will.

 It was Liam.

 “What are you doing here?” Niall asked him, his voice thick from lack of use.

 “Hello to you, too.” Liam gave him a soft smile and then his face sobered when Niall just stared at him. “I wanted to see how you are. Julie said you were sleeping so I thought I’d come sit with you for a while.”

 “Why?”

 “Do I need a reason?” Liam asked.

 Niall nodded his head uncertainly, wondering all the time if this was the wrong thing to do.

 “I missed you, Niall. I like spending time with you.” Liam told him.

 “Oh.” Niall whispered and his brain worked furiously to come up with an appropriate response. “I missed you, too.”

 Liam’s face lit up with a smile and he let the tension flood out of his body.

 He had said the right thing.

-

 “What’s he been like today?” Zayn asked, handing Louis a cup of tea before sitting down next to the older man, his own mug cradled in his hands.

 “Better than I thought he’d be.” Louis told him with a small smile. “Quiet and a bit jumpy but he’s been working hard. Can’t really ask for anything more.”

 “And what about the other kids?”

 Louis sighed, “avoiding him like the plague.”

 Zayn let out a quiet groan and rubbed, tiredly, at his eyes, “I thought as much.”

News of Harry and Niall’s ‘fight’ had spread like wildfire around the school and students and staff alike gossiped about it endlessly.

 Zayn knew the truth behind it, though, had managed to extract it from Harry on Monday, and, despite some of the wilder rumours, most of the school knew the truth, too.

 Harry had caught Niall and Liam Payne kissing.

 Most people assumed it was a homophobic attack and Zayn had heard whispers in the corridor that praised Harry for his actions, said that Niall had deserved everything he had got, perhaps more, and that had made Zayn’s blood run cold.

 Because seeing Niall on the floor, out cold and bleeding, was something that would haunt him for a long time.

 No one deserved that.

 No one.

 He was quick to punish anyone he heard speaking like that, showing that kind of attitude was not tolerated, but it was hard to stand firm when members of the staff were just as prejudiced as the kids.

 They were a very small minority, perhaps only two or three, but they were keen to show their disapproval whenever the topic came up in the staffroom, which it had at every break and lunchtime since Monday, and Zayn had found himself close to snapping more than once.

 Louis already had.

 It had created tensions but that was nothing new.

 Louis and Zayn had never really fit in with their older, more conservatives colleagues.

 Still, it wasn’t ideal in a situation such as this when they needed their support, not only in getting the anti-homophobia message across but also with Harry and Niall and their behaviour and education in general.     

 The mood was different today, though, with Niall now being back at school and everyone being able to see the damage that Harry had inflicted.

 And it did look bad.

 His eyes were still swollen and puffy, the cut on his lip barely scabbed over and the bruises had darkened to a deep purple that contrasted starkly with the few patches of unblemished, sickly pale skin that were on display.

 Zayn was sure that seeing him like that had changed quite a few opinions as the reality of the situation had sunk in because what Harry had done was beyond just a few derogatory words.

 He had really hurt Niall.

 And Zayn didn’t think Harry really understood why.     

 The teen had claimed it was because what he had seen Niall and Liam doing was sick and wrong.

Zayn knew it was because he was jealous.

 Harry loved Niall, it was obvious to anyone who was willing to look, and the way he had reacted at seeing Niall with someone else…

 It just cemented it as truth in Zayn’s mind.

 Because he had never seen Harry look so angry, so wild.

So  _hurt_.

 It had confused Zayn because he had felt so angry at Harry for what he had done.

 He hated violence in all its forms and Niall had already been the victim of so much of it in his short life.

 And yet…

 Yet, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Harry, too.

 He was obviously confused about what he was feeling, struggling to work through his emotions in relation to Niall, and see what it all actually meant.

 Zayn had been so close to pointing it out to him on Monday but had managed to stop himself just before the words left his mouth.

 He couldn’t interfere.

 It wasn’t his place.

 However frustrating it was for Zayn, he knew that this was something that Harry had to figure out for himself.

 He felt someone prod him on the arm, “are you even listening to me, Zayn?”

 “Huh?” Zayn blinked and turned to face the man at his side. “What did you say?”

 Louis gave him a concerned look, “are you feeling okay?”

 “Yeah, just feeling a bit out of it. Sorry, Lou, what were you saying?”

 “Which one are you worrying about?” Louis asked him, giving him a knowing smile.

 Zayn laughed, “how did you guess?”

 Louis snorted, “we’ve only been working together for what- four years?”

 “I suppose.” Zayn grinned at him.

 “Well, which one is it?”

 “Harry.”

 Louis’ expression fell slightly and he didn’t say anything.

 Silence fell over the two of them before Zayn let out an angry huff of air, “he’s just such a fucking idiot, you know?”

“I know.”

 “If he had just stopped for one second and thought about what he was doing…”

 “I know.” Louis said again.

 Zayn continued, “he’s so bloody lucky that Niall didn’t want to press charges, too. What would have happened then? He’s going to find it hard enough finding a job when he’s finished school anyway without being done for GBH.”

 Louis shrugged and Zayn let out a long breath and his body seemed to collapse in on itself.

 “I just worry about him-  _them_ \- so bloody much. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to them.” Zayn mumbled, sounding suddenly exhausted.

 Louis put a comforting hand on his arm but he didn’t say anything.

 He didn’t have to.

-

 Harry knew he shouldn’t be there.

 He knew he shouldn’t.

 But he couldn’t help himself.

 He had to see Niall.  

 He hadn’t been able to get him out of his head.

 Not since what he had done.

 Even if he had deserved it for being gay, for being sick and disgusting, Harry had to know that he was okay.

 It didn’t make any sense but Harry needed to know.

 Because he felt funny whenever he thought of the other teen and the idea that Niall was in pain, was hurt, because of him…

 It kind of made him feel ill.

 Not that he felt bad for what he had done.

 Not at all.

 He swore he didn’t.

 Really.

 But when he had gotten home on Monday evening and seen the blood on his knuckles he had felt so angry at himself.

 Because that was Niall’s blood and it was on his hands.

 And it shouldn’t have been there, it really shouldn’t.

 Harry was so confused.

 He liked Niall.

 Niall was his friend.

 But Niall had kissed that other boy.

That sixth former.

And Harry had lost it.

 Niall was his friend first and Harry liked him.

 He really did.

 Who did this other boy think he was to come in and take what was Harry’s?

 Because Niall belonged to Harry.

 And Niall needed to know that.

 That was why he was waiting outside school.

 He needed to see Niall, needed to talk to him.

 Needed to make him see.

 He couldn’t be caught, though, he had been told by Mr Cowell  that if he was seen anywhere near the school in the two weeks that he was suspended that he would get in even more trouble than he was already in and he didn’t want that.

 Not when his Mum was already so upset with him for what he had done.

 Not when he knew he was so close to getting expelled.

 He was on his last chance and he couldn’t screw it up.

 He drew the hood of his jacket over his head and pulled it low so that it hid his eyes as he merged into the crowd of students pouring from the school, eager to get home as the first drops of rain started to fall from the dark clouds overhead.

 It didn’t take him long to spot Niall, his eyes seeming to be able to pick him out from the crowd without any effort, and Harry pushed his way through the other kids to him.

 He bit his lip at the sight of Niall’s face, saw the bruises and the hurt that he had caused, but he reminded himself that Niall had deserved it and tried to push away the strange feeling of guilt that rested heavily in the pit of his stomach.

 “I need to talk to you.” Harry told him, grabbing the sleeve of Niall’s coat and dragging him through the other bodies.

 He ignored the way Niall flinched away from his touch and tried to free himself from Harry’s grasp.

  Harry didn’t let go of him until they were around the side of the school and away from prying eyes.

 “What the fuck do you want, Harry?” Niall asked, his eyes wide and his whole body shaking.

 But Harry couldn’t look away from Niall’s face.

 From the horrible purple he had left there and the guilt began to bubble and boil until it was spreading through his entire body.

 He spoke without meaning to, “I’m sorry.”

 “You’re what?” Niall’s voice was harsh.

 “I’m sorry.” Harry repeated, matching Niall’s tone and not sounding sorry at all.

 Each step he took towards the smaller teen was matched by Niall stepping backwards, backing himself against the brick wall of the school.

 “I’m trying to fucking apologise.” Harry ground out and anger was mixing with the guilt now, too. “Don’t throw it back in my face like a prick.”

 And, really, didn’t Niall realise how lucky he was?

 Harry never said he was sorry, not to anybody.

 Harry had him trapped against the wall now and he brought his hands up to rest against the cold brick and blocked off any hope of escape.

 He leaned forwards so that their faces were only inches apart and Niall’s hot breath tickled his face.

 Niall refused to meet his eyes, looking anywhere but at Harry, and it made him furious.

 Couldn’t Niall see he was trying?

 “Look at me.”

 Niall shook his head, “no.”

 The sharp sound of flesh against flesh reached Harry’s ears before the realisation that he had just slapped Niall caught up with him.

 “Fucking look at me, Niall.”

 Niall did so and Harry could see the fear in his eyes when they finally met.

 Harry let out an angry sigh, “I’m sorry, okay?”

 Niall nodded, jerkily, “okay.”

 “Good.” Harry said.

 And then he smashed his lips against Niall’s.

 He didn’t know why he did it.

 But it felt so fucking good.

_So good._

 And something ignited in his chest that burned so fiercely that the pure intensity of it scared Harry.  

 But it told him that this was right.

 That he should be kissing Niall.

 That he should probably be doing other things with him, too.

 He didn’t stop Niall when tentative hands came up to fiddle with his belt.

 Instead he moaned and pushed himself against him, squashing Niall against the solid brick, and rubbed his growing erection against Niall’s wandering hands.

 This felt so right.

And Harry was panting and groaning and pushing Niall down onto his knees in front of him, hands tangled in blonde hair.

 So fucking right. 


	10. Chapter Ten

 Lessons were strange without Harry.

 Louis and Niall had had lessons alone together before, mostly maths, but it was strange for them to spend the whole day together without Harry coming between them.

 Most of the time Niall coped with his full attention fine, seeming to enjoy it, but there were other times when it seemed to lay heavily on him and made him uncomfortable and irritable.

 As the weeks wore on through the end of October and into November, Louis began to notice a pattern to Niall’s moods.

 Niall would always start the mornings brightly, seeming to be happy to be at school, and his concentration would be at its best then but Louis knew this was also down to his ADHD medication being at its strongest then, too.

 The last 10 minutes before his extra maths lessons and his tutor sessions with Mr Peet were always tense and his mood afterwards was often unpredictable.

 Sometimes he’d be his usual happy self and other times he’d come back to Louis angry and upset.

 Louis had asked him about it but Niall hadn’t said much more than he hated the lessons and Louis could understand that.

 He hated maths, too.

He had spoken to Alan Peet about it, too, but the older man hadn’t had much to say that Louis hadn’t heard before from Niall’s other teachers: he was a nice boy but he had the concentration span of a gold fish.

 Most of the teachers seemed to like Niall, despite the fact that he could be very cheeky and disruptive and wasn’t afraid to talk back and argue when he thought the teacher was out of order, and they understood that he needed a bit more leeway in terms of schoolwork and behaviour than other students.

 All except his physics’ teacher, Jane Williams.

 No matter how much Louis, and then Zayn once Louis had spoken to him about it, had explained Niall’s situation to her- talked to her about his severe dyslexia, his ADHD, his difficult home life- she just didn’t seem willing to cut him any slack.

 She expected him to do the same amount of work in class as the other students, despite it taking him at least twice as long to read the exercises and even longer to get anything down onto paper, and often left his homework, when Niall actually did it, unmarked, claiming that the work was too messy to read.

 She constantly put Niall down in front of the other students, calling on him to answer questions she knew he didn’t have the answer to or commenting on his work loud enough for the whole class to hear, and it drove Louis insane but there was very little he could actually do.

Louis knew if he put a complaint in then nothing would come of it, however unfair it was, as she was a well-respected member of the staff and had been working at the school for over 20 years without a single problem.

 It didn’t help either, Louis supposed, that her lessons were always after Mr Peet’s tutor sessions when Niall was often at his most volatile.

 It took a lot less to work him up into acting out and she seemed to know this, purposely pushing his buttons until he reacted and she had ‘no other option’ but to send him out of her lesson. 

 It infuriated Louis because most of the time Niall would sit and take it, doing nothing but smiling at her sweetly as she eventually wore him down, but when he snapped then she’d crucify him, always giving him the worst punishments she could think of, and Niall had more bad behaviour slips and detentions because of physics than most of his other lessons combined.

 And that day in particular, she seemed bent on pushing him until he broke.

 Niall had arrived outside of the physics classroom looking kind of out of it and Louis had teased him, asking him if he had seen Liam wandering the corridors on his way here, and Niall had blushed bright red.

 It wasn’t a secret that the two boys were going out with each other, though, no one had caught them kissing or holding hands on school property since the incident with Harry in October.

 They took their usual seats in the back of the classroom and Niall stared into space while Mrs Williams went through what they going to be doing in lesson that day.

 She kept shooting Niall sharp looks and Louis kept nudging him, trying to draw his attention to what she was saying, but his eyes would glaze over again with seconds.

 When she called for them to open their text books, Niall didn’t seem to hear.

“Open your books at page 72.” She repeated, looking pointedly at Niall.

 “Niall.” Louis hissed under his breath, attracting the boy’s attention and making him jump.

 “What?” Niall asked, loudly.

 “Page 72.” Mrs Williams said.

 Niall opened his text book and started leafing through the pages, looking at Louis, who nodded, to confirm he had the right page.

 “Does anyone want to read exercise 13 for me?” Mrs Williams asked and, when no one put their hand up, she turned her gaze back to Niall and Louis’ heart sunk, already guessing what she was going to do, “no volunteers? Okay, then. Niall can read it for us.”

 “No.” Niall said to her, shaking his head.

 “I beg your pardon?” She asked, an eyebrow raised.   

 “No.” Niall said again.

 Louis cleared his throat and was about to come to Niall’s defence, even though he knew he shouldn’t, when he was cut off.

 “Read the exercise, Niall, or I will put you in detention.” Mrs William’s warned.

 “I’m already in detention for today and tomorrow.” Niall told her, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Then I’ll put you in for the whole of next week then, too.”

 “That’s not fair!” Niall argued and he threw pleading eyes on Louis. “Mr Tomlinson, tell her!”

 Louis sighed, hating the situation he had been placed in, he knowing he couldn’t challenge Mrs William’s authority in front of a class full of kids, however much he wanted to, and he found himself saying, “it’s okay, Niall, I’ll help you. Read the exercise.”

 He saw the hurt on Niall’s face and Louis couldn’t help but feel that he had betrayed him.

 He knew how shy and sensitive Niall was about his reading, he knew it, and yet here he was asking for him to read in front of a class of 30 other kids, all of whom would make fun of him without batting an eyelid, not really understanding  _why_  Niall couldn’t read well or what their teasing would do to his confidence.

 “No.” Niall said. “I’m not reading it.”

 Louis knew what was going to happen and he tried to stop it, “Niall, it’s only a couple of lines-.”

 “NO!” Niall shouted, standing up abruptly and knocking his stool over. “I don’t care what you do, I’m not fucking reading it.”

 “Niall, I will not tolerate that kind of language in my classroom.”

 “Oh, piss off.” Niall spat at her, picking up his bag and shoving his things into it.

 “Come on, Niall.” Louis said, “let’s go cool off.”

 “And you can fuck off, too.” Niall glared at Louis, backing away from him when Louis tried to put a calming hand on his shoulder. “I’m going home. I hate it here. I hate this school and I hate everybody in it. You can all get fucked.”

 “Niall-.” Mrs Williams tried as Niall marched from the classroom, Louis hurrying to keep up.

 “Don’t!” Louis hissed even as Niall picked up a text book from one of the desks he passed and threw it at Mrs William’s.

 “You can shove your book at your fat arse.” Niall told her and Louis thanked anybody that was listening that Niall’s throw was wide and the book missed its mark by a couple of feet.

 The trouble he’d have been in if it had hit her was more than Louis could bear thinking about.  

 He struggled to keep up with Niall out in the corridor and it took a burst of speed before he was finally able to get a hold of Niall’s jumper and stop him in his tracks.

 Niall flinched away from him, bringing his hands up to defend himself, and Louis felt sick.

Niall had thought he was going to hurt him.

Louis would never do that, he couldn’t, all he wanted was for Niall to stop so they could talk.

 He let go of the teen’s arm immediately and Niall just stared at him, waiting for him to make a move, but all Louis could do was stare back.

 And then Niall turned on his heel and ran.

-

 Liam frowned and tugged his earphones free.

 “Niall? What are you doing here?” He asked, standing to meet the blonde. “Lower school aren’t allowed in the sixth form lounge.”

 “Can we go somewhere?” Niall asked, his eyes wide.

 And that was when Liam realised that his boyfriend was shaking.

 Liam immediately pulled him into a hug, ignoring the way that Niall tensed in his arms, and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Niall’s head, “what’s happened?”

 “Can we go somewhere?” Niall repeated.

 “Where do you want to go?” Liam asked him, pulling away from the hug but keeping an arm wrapped around the younger teen’s waist and ignored the looks the others in the room were giving him.

 They weren’t so much concerned with Liam being gay, they were in sixth for, after all, and thought themselves above the childish attitudes of the younger students, as with the disruption to the previous quiet of the sixth form lounge.

 They had essays to write and exams to prepare for.

 “Away.” Niall whispered.

 “Okay.” Liam answered simply and packed his things up as quickly as he could.

 They left through the entrance that led to the sixth form block and started in the direction of Liam’s house without speaking.

 Liam wanted to ask questions but he didn’t want Niall to clam up so he kept silent.

 He had to play it carefully.

 If he was too pushy, asked too many questions, then Niall wouldn’t tell him anything.

 If he tried to change the subject, gloss over whatever was wrong until Niall was ready to speak to him about it, then Niall would never bring whatever was bothering him up again.

 It was difficult and all Liam wanted to do was help him but he knew he couldn’t do anything if Niall didn’t trust him first.

 And he needed Niall to trust him.

 Not just so Liam could help him but also for the sake of their relationship.

 For their future together, Liam needed to know that Niall trusted him as much as he trusted Niall.

 Because he did trust him.

 With everything he had he trusted Niall.

 Loved him, too.

 And Liam knew it was too early in their relationship to be throwing around words like ‘love’ and ‘trust’ and really, truly mean them but he couldn’t help himself.

 He had fallen for Niall, fallen for him hard, and he couldn’t imagine his life without him in it.

 Nearly every minute out of school was spent together.

 Usually at Liam’s house as Niall’s home was a bit out of the way and Liam had noticed that Niall never seemed comfortable there anyway, which he did wonder and worry about but never asked, hoping that one day Niall would feel comfortable to talk about it to him, but also out in the town, shopping and going to the cinema and eating out.

 Niall was always waiting for him at the end of the day by the school gates, even on those days when Liam had running practice, smiling that small, sweet smile that Liam knew was only for him, and Liam would take his hand in his own and they’d spend the 10 minute walk to Liam’s house talking about their days and the latest school gossip and Liam swore he glowed from pure happiness.

 They never really did anything exciting on school nights, mostly just did homework and watched TV, but Niall would stay with them for dinner before either Julie or Dan would pick him up on their way home from work, the near hour walk between their houses, as the boys lived on opposite sides of town, having been judged too far for Niall to walk on his own in the dark, though, Niall himself didn’t seem bothered by the distance, and it was like Niall was a member of the family already.

 His Mum loved him and was always fussing over him and cooking special meals for him and his Dad, once he had come to terms with the fact that Liam had a  _boy_ friend, laughed and joked with Niall and treated him like another son.

 His sisters, visiting from uni, had been harder to convince but all it had taken was a couple of hours and they were as in love with Niall as the rest of the family.

 And it wasn’t like they didn’t see Niall had problems.

He could be too loud and he didn’t always listen to what was being said, especially as the night wore on and his ADHD medication wore off, the dose he took in the morning before school not quite lasting a full waking day, and he grew bored with the TV and fidgeted and chatted when others were trying to watch it.

 He didn’t ask for things. He’d never ask for a snack or food when he was hungry and he’d never ask if they could do anything once they reached Liam’s house, which wasn’t a problem they had at school, and instead waited until Liam offered him options and he’d choose from those. It had taken hours of him squirming and fidgeting before Liam finally realised that he hadn’t told Niall where the bathroom was.

 His relationship with food was also difficult to understand. He’d eat everything given to him, even if it made him sick, which had happened a few times at the beginning of their relationship, when his Mum had been eager to feed him up, and it still happened every now and then when the two of them got carried away in cooking for themselves, but he’d never give any indication of being hungry, even if Liam could hear his stomach rumbling and Liam, having grown up in an environment where food was always available, had a hard time with this.

 Niall didn’t like to be touched, either, and that was probably the biggest problem of them all.

 For them all.

 Liam’s family were naturally very hands on and touchy feely, his Mum always pulling Liam into a hug or smoothing down his hair and his Dad wrestling with him in the living room or wrapping an arm around his shoulder, but they just couldn’t do that with Niall.    

 Any sudden movement in his direction would have him flinching away and the first time that Liam’s Dad had tried to punch him softly on the arm, meaning the action as nothing more than a joke, Niall had nearly had a panic attack.

 Only Liam’s gentle words and soothing hands had been enough to calm him.

 And it made Liam think…

 What the hell had happened to Niall to make him react in such a way?

Just what kind of life had he had before being taken into foster care?

 Liam was sure he knew, even if Niall had never spoken to him about it, and it made him feel sick.

 Because who in their right mind would want to hurt Niall?

_His Niall._

 Liam was the only one who could really get away with touching Niall and Liam made sure to never push him.

 They still hadn’t progressed beyond holding hands, kissing and cuddling despite already being close to a month into their relationship but Liam didn’t mind.

 He wanted to take things slowly, have a proper relationship, and, if he was being honest, he didn’t think Niall was ready for sex.  

Not when the younger teen wouldn’t even get changed in front of Liam.

 Never mind the amount of convincing it had taken before Niall would share Liam’s bed with him when he slept over at the weekends.

 They didn’t do anything but cuddle and sometimes kiss but Liam knew it made Niall tense and it had taken him a few nights to get used to it and finally relax in Liam’s arms.

 Those were Liam’s favourite moments, though.

 When they were laid in bed together in their pyjamas, whispering nonsense to each other, their eyes slipping shut, and Niall’s head on his shoulder and their bodies pressed close together.

 It was for those precious minutes that Liam counted down to the weekend, looking forward to being able to hold Niall once again.

 They arrived at Liam’s house without speaking once and Liam let them in, knowing the house would be empty as both of his parents were at work.

 Liam led them into the kitchen and poured them both a glass of juice as Niall took a seat at the breakfast bar.

 “It’s lunchtime, do you want anything to eat? I’m thinking about making a pot noodle or something.”  

 Niall shook his head and looked down at his hands.

 Liam just looked at him and there was a short silence before Niall let out a long sigh and asked, “have you ever thought about running away?”

 “Running away?” Liam repeated and then, after a moment’s thought, shook his head, “no.”

 “Never?”

 “Never.” Liam confirmed. “Why would I want to? I’ve got a great family, I’ve never been in trouble at school and now I have you… I’m happy, probably happier than I’ve ever been.”

 Niall paled and a sudden fear struck Liam.

 “You’re not thinking of running away, are you?”

 Niall didn’t answer him, didn’t even look at him, and Liam felt his fear grow.

 He moved quickly to Niall’s side of the breakfast bar and, with a finger under the chin, he brought Niall’s eyes up to meet his own.

 He repeated his question and Niall’s eyes were suddenly wet with tears.

 “I’m going to get expelled again.” Niall told him.

 “Why?” Liam asked even as his brain clung to the word ‘again’.

 “I threw a book at Mrs Williams.” Niall said. “And I swore at her and they’re going to call Julie and Dan into school. What if they get really angry, Liam? What if they- if they-?”

 Niall cut himself off and seemed to sink into himself and Liam swore he had never seen him look so small or sad.

 It hurt.

 “I know I deserve it because I was bad. I was really bad. But she kept pushing me and then Mr Tomlinson joined in and I couldn’t- I can’t- read and they wanted me to do it in front of the whole class.” Niall words were fast and he looked at Liam with wide eyes. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. I knew they’d all laugh at me and now Julie and Dan are going to be so angry at me. I’ve never seen them angry before.”

 “They won’t hurt you.” Liam told him.

 “How do you know?” Niall asked him in a small voice.

 Liam struggled for a moment, his mouth dry and his eyes stinging, “they’re- they’re doctors. They’re meant to help people, not hurt them.”

 Niall didn’t look convinced as he asked his next question, “what if they send me to the same school as Will?”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

 Niall shook his head and Liam wondered if there was something he was missing, something that Niall wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t have chance to question it because Niall was reaching out tentatively for a hug.

 Liam’s heart swelled with joy and he closed the distance between them, pulling Niall close to him and burying his nose in the blonde’s hair, inhaling his familiar scent.

 It was the first time that Niall had ever voluntarily initiated physical contact with him.

 And Liam was so happy, so ridiculously happy, because he was sure now that Niall was coming to trust him.

 “I love you, Niall.” The words slipped from Liam’s mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to regret them. “You don’t have to say it back, it’s okay. I understand.”

 And he did.

 He knew it was still early in their relationship and he didn’t expect Niall to feel the same way.

 Not yet.

 But then Niall’s grip on Liam’s t-shirt tightened and he whispered, “I love you, too.”

 “Really?” Liam breathed, not even trying to keep the grin from his face.

 Niall nodded and he lifted his head and their lips met.

 It was short and sweet and, Liam thought, perfect. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

 Harry grinned as he saw Niall come into view.

 He had been waiting all day for this.

 Been thinking it over in his head, planning what he was going to say, what he was going to do, when he saw Niall at the end of the day.

 It was Thursday, after all, and Thursday was  _their_  day. 

 It hadn’t helped that Niall had been in inclusion with him all day, sat at the other side of the classroom but still so close, so close, closer than they had been at school in weeks, but they hadn’t been allowed to talk and Niall had only looked in his direction once.

 Harry had caught his eye and smirked at him and Niall hadn’t looked at him again.

 Harry swore he was teasing him.   

 Niall was good at that.

 He pretended that he didn’t like Harry.

 He pretended to flinch and quiver from him Harry’s touch- from Harry’s bites, his kisses, his licks- because he knew it drove Harry wild.

 He pretended that he didn’t want to look Harry in the eye when they were together, he pretended that he had nothing to say because he was waiting for Harry to make the first move.

 Always waiting.

 And Harry loved to be in control.

 Maybe Harry didn’t understand what was going on between them and maybe he did like Niall, more than what was right for two boys, but he couldn’t help himself.

 Niall was such a fucking tease.

 But he was Harry’s.

_His, his, his._

 And he let Harry dominate him, do with him what he wanted, and Harry knew that that meant he liked Harry back.

 Because that was how it was supposed to be.

 Hadn’t he seen the same thing with his own parents when he was growing up?

 The way his Dad forced himself on his Mum, kissing her and touching her and doing things to her that Harry had only recently come to understand, and his Dad loved his Mum.

And she loved him back.

 She had told him.

 And that’s how Harry knew Niall liked it.

 Liked him.

 There were other things, too.

 Why else would he meet Harry by the school gates on Thursdays?

 Why else would he let Harry pull him around the side of the school building to  _their_ spot?

 Why else would he drop to his knees and tug at Harry’s trousers with the only the smallest amount of persuasion on Harry’s part?

 Niall liked him.

 And that’s why Harry knew it was time to take it to the next level.

 “You’re late.” Harry murmured when the smaller teen was close enough.

 Niall didn’t look at him and instead kicked at some loose stones on the floor.

 “Come on, Niall.” Harry said, reaching out to grab at Niall’s coat but Niall jumped backwards out of his grasp, making Harry frown. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 “I- I can’t.”

 “What?”

 “I’m waiting for somebody.”

 “I’m here.” Harry said, not understanding.

 Niall didn’t say anything and this time didn’t move away when Harry grabbed his arm, letting himself be led around the side of the school.

 Harry dumped his bag next to the wall and Niall did the same, his eyes trained on the ground.

 And then Harry was on him.

 Pushing him against the wall, kissing him, groping him.

 Showing Niall who he belonged to.

 But, unlike other Thursdays, Niall didn’t kiss back.

 Harry pulled away, getting frustrated, “what is wrong with you today?”

Niall just shook his head and anger began to burn in the pit of Harry’s stomach, twisting with the usual feeling of  _something_  that he always felt when he was with the blonde, and Harry found himself grabbing at Niall’s chin and squeezing painfully hard.

 “Why won’t you kiss back?” Harry asked.

 “I- I can’t.” Niall said again.

 Harry shoved him back into the way and attacked Niall’s mouth with his own, nipping and biting and sucking, “you’re thinking of  _him_ , aren’t you?”

 Harry wasn’t stupid.

Despite being locked away in inclusion every minute of the day, he had heard the rumours.

Rumours that said that Niall was dating that sixth former.

 The one Harry had seen him with that day.

 But he knew they weren’t true.

 They couldn’t be.

 Niall was his.

 He had shown him that so many times.

 Niall couldn’t be with anyone else.

 Couldn’t be thinking of anyone else.

 Could he?

 Harry hated the sudden spark of insecurity that ignited in his chest.

 “He doesn’t like you.” Harry told him, tangling his hand in Niall’s soft hair. “Not like I like you.”

 And it was true.

 Harry was sure he had never liked anyone as much as he liked Niall.

 Niall was all he could think about, every minute of every day, and he doubted that anyone could feel the same way.

 That’s why he had to show Niall.

 He had to show him how much he loved him.

 He attached his lips to Niall’s once again and rubbed his growing erection against the smaller boy, groaning at the contact, and Niall kissed him back.

 It wasn’t the same as usual but Harry didn’t care.

 He continued to twist and grind and  _mark_.

 “Turn around.” Harry said, breathing heavily and fumbling with the fastening of Niall’s school trousers.

 “W-what?” Niall asked, his hands now fighting Harry’s.

 A sharp slap across the face had Niall’s hands falling to his sides.

 “I like you.” Harry breathed, kissing the now red skin of Niall’s cheek, softly. “I want to show you how much.”

 Niall didn’t move as Harry pulled his trousers and his boxers down passed his knees and he did nothing more than whimper and whisper a mantra of, ‘no, please, no,’ as Harry manoeuvred his body so Niall was now facing the wall.

“You’ll like it.” Harry told him, tugging his own trousers down.

 “No, please, don’t Harry-please.”

 Niall was sobbing and Harry suddenly felt queasy.

 As if this wasn’t the right thing to do.

 But his Mum had cried, too, had begged his Dad to stop but she still loved him.

 Even after he had left and they had moved house, moved here, she loved him.

 She had told him so.

 And he… he needed Niall to love him, too.

 Needed it like nothing else.

 “You’ll like it.” Harry said again. “I promise.”

 Harry had to slap a hand over Niall’s mouth to muffle the cry of pain that he let out when Harry thrust into him.

 With his other hand he gripped Niall’s waist and he started to build up an uneven rhythm, loosing himself to the sensation, moaning and groaning and swearing and saying Niall’s name over and over.

 Harry didn’t notice when Niall fell silent.

 He didn’t notice the blood or the way that Niall trembled.

 He was lost in the moment.

 Lost in Niall.

 His heat, his smell and,  _fuck_ , Harry was close.

 He was so close.

 “What the hell?”

 Harry looked up at the sound and a smile crept onto his face but he didn’t stop.

 Because it was him.

 The sixth former.

 The one that Harry had seen Niall with.

 “Liam?” Niall gasped.

 But it was too late, the other teen was gone.

 Niall started to struggle but Harry pinned him to the wall and continued with his brutal rhythm. 

 And then, with one last thrust and cry of Niall’s name, he was done.

 Panting and sweating, he let go of Niall and stepped away from him, pulling his trousers up as he did so.

 “That was good.” Harry told him with a pleased smirk.

 But Niall just sunk to the floor, his whole frame shaking and sobs tearing from his throat.   

 “Niall?” Harry asked, nudging him on the arm with his foot.

 The feeling of being ill was back.

 “Didn’t you like it?” Harry frowned.

 “Li- Liam.” Niall choked out. “Liam.”

 “You… you want _him_?” Harry asked and he suddenly felt like crying. “Why?”

 Didn’t Niall see?

 Harry liked him, loved him, maybe, and Niall was his.

 His.

 Not Liam’s.

 Not anyone else’s.

 And Harry hurt because Niall didn’t understand that.

 “Fucking whore.” Harry spat out, letting anger swallow the pain. “Dirty little slut, after everything we’ve done- was it all just a game for you?”

 He kicked out at Niall’s trembling figure and caught him in the ribs.

 “I hate you.” Harry said. “I hope you fucking die.”

 Fury overwhelmed him, telling him to hit and punch and kick and  _hurt_ , because Niall…

 Niall had made him hurt.

 And he couldn’t stand it.

 He forced himself to leave before he could inflict anymore damage.

 However much he hated Niall, he loved him, too.

-

 The bell rung.

“Can I have a word with you, Liam?” Mr Malik asked over the noise of the class packing their things away and talking amongst each other.

 Liam nodded and put his notepad, books and pencil case in his backpack before trudging to the front of the room, head down and shoulders hunched.

 Mr Malik waited until the last of Liam’s class had left before closing the door and perching on the end of the teacher’s desk while Liam sat on the table closest.

 “Are you okay, Liam?” Mr Malik asked. “You look down.”

 “Yeah, I’m fine.” Liam said and he forced himself to smile.

 Mr Malik didn’t look like he was buying it but he didn’t press the issue and Liam was kind of glad.

 Because he didn’t know if he was ready to talk about what he had seen yesterday.

 How it had broken his heart and left him hurting and angry and confused and betrayed.

 “I was wondering if I could talk to you about Niall.” Mr Malik said.

 Liam all but flinched at the mention of the name but he made himself speak, “wh- what about him?”

 “Me and Mr Tomlinson, we’re worried about him.” Mr Malik said with a small shrug. “He didn’t seem like himself at all this morning and I was wondering if you had any idea why?”

 It was Liam’s turn to shrug, “we broke up yesterday.”

 He knew it wasn’t a secret that he and Niall had been dating.

 “Oh.”

 Liam stared down at his hands in his lap, clenching them.

 “I’m sorry to hear that.” Mr Malik said. “I’m sure you had your reasons but I thought you were good for Niall. It was obvious how much he liked you.”

 “Liked me enough to cheat on me with Harry Styles?” Liam snapped, the words slipping from his mouth without thought.

 “What?”

 “I- I caught them around the side of the school yesterday.” Liam said, miserably. “Having sex.”

 And it was probably more than Mr Malik wanted to know but Liam hadn’t been able to stop himself.

 He had said it.

 He had admitted out loud that Niall had cheated on him.

 It was real.

 Tears started to well in his eyes and he quickly wiped at them with the back of his hand, “I’m sorry.”

 “It’s okay.” Mr Malik told him and he turned and plucked a couple of tissues from the box he had on his desk before handing them to Liam.

 “Thanks.” He said, his voice thick and shaking.

 “I’m free this lesson.” Mr Malik told him. “If you wanted to stay here and chat about it or just have some quiet time away from the rest of the school.”

 “I’m sorry.” Liam said again and he started to cry.

 He felt pathetic, blubbering like a little kid in front of his teacher, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

 He hurt.

 He hurt so much.

 And he didn’t understand it because Niall had said that he loved him.

 And Liam had believed him.

 Had loved him with everything he had.

 Had been willing to give him everything and Niall had thrown it back in his face.

 “Don’t be sorry, Liam.” Mr Malik said. “I’ve been through my fair share of break-ups, I know how much they hurt.”

 “He told me he loved me.” Liam blurted out. “But he couldn’t have, could he? I mean, you don’t do  _that_  to people you love.”

 “Have you spoken to him about it?”

 “What’s there to say?” Liam asked. “I saw it with my own eyes. He cheated.”

 Mr Malik nodded but he didn’t say anything.

 Silence fell over them.

 “I can’t- I can’t do those sessions with him anymore.” Liam said, eventually.

 “That’s okay, I’ll sort something else out.” Mr Malik told him.

 Liam nodded and made a quick escape after that, afraid he was going to say something that he’d regret.

 The rest of the day passed by in a blur of lessons, pretending to be okay and not thinking about Niall.

 He couldn’t help himself, though.

 No matter how hard he tried to push the blonde from his mind, he’d always come creeping back in, infiltrate his thoughts and make his heart ache.

 By the end of the day all he wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed and forget.

 He knew it wouldn’t be that easy, though.

 It never was.

 His Mum would be concerned.

 His Dad would have questions.

 And Liam didn’t know what to tell them because Niall had become such a big part of their lives recently and they loved him, too.  

 He’d have to tell them something, though, because, barring the previous night, he hadn’t returned from school without Niall in a month.

 He couldn’t lie to them again.

 Not about this. 

 He’d tell them what had happened once he got home, he’d tell the truth.

 He hadn’t been ready to last night.

 But he’d accepted the reality of the situation.

 Even if Niall hadn’t.

 Because the younger teen was waiting for him by the school gates as if it was just a normal day, the straps of his backpack held firmly in his grasp, looking so young and childish and sweet and innocent, like  _his_  Niall again, not the one he had caught cheating on him, and Liam’s heart felt like it was going to break all over again.

 Liam just walked straight passed him and started the walk home.

 He couldn’t bring himself to look at Niall as the blonde all but ran to keep up with his quick pace, Niall’s gait uneven and his face drawn into a grimace.

 “Liam.” He called. “Liam, wait.”

 “I don’t have anything to say to you.” Liam shot back, not slowing.

 They were still too close to school and there were still loads of kids filling the streets.

 Liam didn’t want them to see this.

 He didn’t want anyone to know.

 “Please.” Niall tried again. “I need to talk to you.”

 “Go away, Niall.”  

 “Please, Liam!”

 Liam shook his head and he still didn’t look.

 He couldn’t.

 He was angry and hurt and he didn’t want to let that go.

 Not yet.

 But then Niall said something that had Liam spinning to face him, his heart thudding painfully fast in his chest and anger like he had never felt before coursing through his veins.

 “What did you say?” He asked, his voice calmer than he thought it would be.

 “I love you.” Niall said again, his eyes wide and his face hopeful.

 And Liam snapped.

 “You fucking liar.” He closed the gap between them but he didn’t touch Niall. “You don’t love me, how could you? I saw you with him, I saw you fucking- you don’t do that, you don’t cheat on people you love.”

 “I- I didn’t.” Niall stammered, backing away from Liam slightly but Liam was too angry to notice. “Harry wanted to-.”

 “So you let him?”

 “We’d never done that before.”

 “What?” Liam asked, his face creasing in confusion, his anger momentarily taking the backseat.

 “We’d never done that before.” Niall said again.

 “But, but you had done other stuff?”

 Niall just stared at him.

 “How long?” Liam’s voice was soft, disguising the fury of emotions welling beneath his skin. “How long have you been seeing him behind my back?” 

 Niall wouldn’t meet his eyes.

 And Liam knew.

 “You fucking prick!” He spat. “I loved you, I fucking loved you and you do this to me? Why, Niall? Wasn’t I enough for you?”

 “Harry- I didn’t-.”

 “Don’t.” Liam cut him off. “Don’t say his name.”

 “He made me.” Niall told him, desperately. “He made me, Liam, please, I didn’t-.”

“Why are you lying?” Liam asked, his words sharp, and then a sudden thought struck him. “Is it because I wouldn’t have sex with you? Is that why?”

 And still, Niall wouldn’t look at him.

 Tears welled in Liam’s eyes, making his vision blur, because that was why.

 That was the reason Niall had cheated on him.

 Because Liam had wanted something special, something more than physical, and Niall hadn’t been willing to wait.

 “You whore.” He gasped as his breath caught in his throat. “You- you fucker. I hate you, I hate you so fucking much.”

 “Liam…” Niall said softly but Liam just shook his head.

 He turned and ran as the first tears began to fall.

 Niall didn’t try to follow him this time.

-

 Niall retreated into himself as hands caressed his body.

 Feeling him, stroking him.

 He didn’t move.

 He didn’t breathe.

 He just closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.

 He hated this.

 Hated it because he never knew what to expect.

 Some days his private maths lessons with Mr Peet were just that.

 Lessons.

 And others….

 Others he wanted to  _touch_  Niall, wanted Niall to touch him back.

 Wanted him to get down on his knees.

 Wanted Niall to listen to the words he whispered in his ears.

  _Slut, pathetic, whore._

 Wanted Niall to believe that this was all his fault, that he had forced the man to do this to him, had pushed him into acting.

 And Niall knew it was wrong.

 Knew it was so, so wrong because teachers shouldn’t be doing this.

 They never had before.

 But Mr Peet told him he had to.

 Told him it was his punishment.

 And Niall would do what he wanted.

 Because Mr Peet was a teacher and teachers were never wrong.

 Even if Mr Tomlinson said they lost things sometimes.

 Niall didn’t want to get into trouble, he didn’t want Dan and Julie to have to come into school because of him, and he didn’t want Mr Tomlinson and Mr Malik to look at him like _that_.  

 They already knew what Harry had done and they blamed him for it.

 Even though Niall had said no.

 Even though he had tried to get Harry to stop.

 He thought that they hated him.

 Hated him like Liam did.

 Hated him like Harry did, though, he didn’t understand why.

 He had done what Harry had wanted.

 He had only done what everyone had wanted.

 And it was all wrong.

He was all wrong.

 It was becoming too much.

 And still the hands teased and squeezed and then he was being forced onto his knees.

 “I’m going to have to punish you.” Mr Peet said the same words that he always did. “I can’t let you get away with that you’ve done.”

 Fingers pulled at his hair as Niall choked and sucked and cried.

 He didn’t want this.

 He didn’t want this. 

 He didn’t want this.

 And nobody cared.

-

 Louis was worried.

 He had tried talking to Niall, tried asking him what was wrong and he had even phoned his foster parents to ask if everything was alright at home.

 Because Niall wasn’t alright.

 He wasn’t alright at all.

 He had spent the first half of the week walking around school as if in a daze.

 Not talking.

 Not working.

 Not doing anything.

 And Louis was worried, really worried.

 Because no matter how much he joked or teased or soothed or tried to understand, Niall wouldn’t open up to him.

 Wouldn’t react to anything that Louis did.

 Until Thursday.

 It always seemed to be Thursday, Louis thought.

 They were in physics again and the lesson had barely begun. Louis was trying to coerce Niall into reading the worksheet they had been given when he noticed something at the corner of Niall’s mouth.

“Does Mr Peet let you eat in his lessons?” Louis asked, his tone light and friendly, encouraging him speak.

 Niall looked at him sharply.

 “You’ve got yoghurt on the side of your mouth.” Louis told him.

 Niall’s eyes widened and his hand flew up to his mouth and Louis swore his skin drained of all colour, “no.”

 “Niall?”

But Niall was shaking his head, violently, and scratching at the skin around his mouth with blunt fingernails.

“No.” He said again, louder. “No.”

 He pushed his stool backwards, causing it to scrape against the floor and attract the attention of his classmates and Mrs Williams, and stood.

 “What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs Williams asked him.

 “I can’t.” Niall said and Louis was surprised to see him shaking.

 He stood, too, but didn’t make a move to touch Niall.

 He remembered how he’d reacted the last time.

 “I need to- I can’t.” And then Niall was running.

 Louis chased after him, ignoring the shrill shouts of Mrs Williams that followed them from the room, and his guts twisted and churned and he felt sick with fear.

 Because something was wrong.

 Something was so terribly wrong and he didn’t know what to do.

 He hadn’t been able to get through to Niall, not since his break up with Liam, and he was just so scared for him.

 Scared that he was slipping away.

 Scared that this had been the thing to push him over the edge.

 Because Louis wasn’t as sure as Liam or Zayn were that Niall had willingly cheated.

 He knew Harry.

 Knew him better than Harry probably knew himself and he feared what he was capable of.

 Though Niall hadn’t said anything to the contrary, Louis doubted the situation was as straight forward as anyone thought it was because both Harry and Niall were so fragile, despite their exteriors, and insecure.

 So unaware of their emotions, so unaware of how they made them act.

They were both, through the actions of others and cruel childhoods, so completely messed up that Louis was sure they weren’t even aware what  _norma_ l was.   

 They reached the bathroom at the end of the corridor and Louis followed Niall into the room, seconds after the small teen had entered, and he found Niall stooped over one of the sinks and fumbling with the taps, trying to turn the water on, even as he vomited into the basin.

 His whole body was trembling and his chest heaved as he tried, and failed, to suck in air and Louis’ heart ached.

 “It’s okay, Niall, you’re okay.” He said, trying to sound as soothing as possible.

 He didn’t want to make Niall’s panic attack any worse.

 Niall just shook his head and whimpered and retched as he splashed water in his face and scrubbed at the skin around his mouth.

 “Niall, please, you’re going to hurt yourself.” Louis said, stepping closer.

 Fear stabbed at his chest because he knew that if Niall didn’t calm down soon then he’d end up passing out.

 “Noooooo.” Niall moaned. “Nooooo.”

 And he was sobbing and shaking so violently that his head kept banging into the taps or the sink itself and Louis knew he had to do something.

 He had to.

 “Niall.” He tried again.

And that’s when he made his mistake.

 He put a hand on Niall’s shoulder.

 Under normal circumstances Niall would have flinched or squirmed away from Louis’ touch but today, in his panicked state, he swung a fist at him.

 “I said no!” Niall shouted as his punch landed on Louis’ jaw.

 There was a moment of silence where they just stared at each other, not quite believing what had just happened, before Louis pressed fingers against the throbbing spot on his jawline and Niall seemed to stop breathing.

 “It’s okay.” Louis told him, even if he knew it wasn’t.

 Not really.

 Niall had hit him and the school had very strict rules about violence.

 Especially against members of staff and there was no way he could lie about it.

 Jane Williams had seen them leave the classroom, had seen the state that Niall was in, seen that Louis’ face had been unmarked, and she would put two and two together because Louis was sure his face was going to swell and bruise and there would be no way he could hide it.

 No matter how much he wanted to.

He couldn’t protect Niall from his.  

 “I’m sorry.” Niall croaked, the sound catching in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

 “It’s okay.” Louis said again, his own voice thick.

 He cursed himself for being so stupid because he knew how Niall reacted when people touched him, he knew it, and still he did it.

 Not that he had been expecting Niall to respond like that but it had only been a matter of time before Niall snapped.

 Before he tried to defend himself.

 And Louis wished he could take the last few minutes back but he couldn’t.

 Niall was going to get in a lot of trouble and it was all Louis’ fault.

 He had never felt so guilty.

-

Zayn didn’t know what to think when Louis knocked on his door towards the end of fourth lesson, his face bruised and a sombre look on his face.

 “Can I have a word with you?”  Louis asked.

 Zayn glanced at his year 9s, who were working in pairs and going over the text the class had just read, before nodding and saying, “I’ll just be outside with Mr Tomlinson, I’ll hear if you start messing about.”  

 A few of the kids nodded but he didn’t pay that much attention, quickly joining Louis in the corridor.

 “Are you okay? What happened to your face, Lou?” He asked as soon as he had closed the door.

 “Niall.” Louis answered, simply. “He hit me.”

 “What?”

 “I’m such a fucking idiot.” Louis said in a rush of air, rubbing at his eyes. “He was having a panic attack and I touched him- _fuck_. I shouldn’t have.”

 “Has Simon spoken to him yet?”  Zayn asked as worry began to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

“No, he’s in a meeting and won’t be finished until lunch but he already knows.” Louis told him, now gnawing nervously at his bottom lip. “I want to catch him as soon as he gets out and explain it was an accident.”

 “Niall’s already on a warning after last week, he could get expelled.”

 “I know.”

 “Fuck.” Zayn sighed. “Where is he?”

 “The extra English room, I didn’t know where else to put him.”

 Zayn looked at his watch, “there’s only a few minutes before the bell goes, you go and wait for Simon and I’ll go and sit with Niall, see if we can’t try and fix this, yeah?”

 “I don’t think this can be fixed.” Louis said, glumly.

 “Damage control, then.” Zayn patted Louis on the arm, gently. “Don’t blame yourself, Lou.”

 “That’s easy for you to say,” Louis snapped at him, “you haven’t just gotten one of your kids expelled.”

 Zayn shook his head, “that might not happen yet. Go talk to Simon.”

 “I’m sorry. I just-.”

 “It’s alright.” Zayn told him and forced himself to smile. “Now, go.”

 He returned to his classroom and told the kids that they could leave early before he hurried down to the extra English classroom where Niall was sat at one of the desks at the back, his head cradled in his hands.

 He didn’t look up when Zayn entered, just as the bell rung for lunch, and Zayn didn’t know what to say.     

 Niall was in a lot of trouble and, by the looks of it, Niall knew it.

 There wasn’t much Zayn could say, he didn’t want to lie to Niall, give him false hope, and tell him that everything would work out when, in reality, he had no idea what was going to happen.

 There was the very real possibility that Niall might get expelled, though, Zayn hoped he could talk Simon down from that.

 He had been able to do the same for Harry and what Niall had done was nowhere near as bad.

 Though, there was already the incident with Jane Williams the week before and, with Louis also being a teacher, Simon could choose to look at the incidents in connection and declare Niall a danger to staff safety.

 Zayn hoped he wouldn’t.

 He had been the one who had persuaded them to take Niall in the first place, he prayed that Simon wouldn’t let Niall slip away from them after less than a term.

 Not after they had made so much progress with him.

 The minutes dragged by until Louis appeared, looking slightly happier than the last time Zayn had seen him.

 “Simon wants to talk to you.” Louis told him and Zayn nodded and escaped the pressing silence of the room.

 His conversation with Simon was short and to the point as all conversations with Simon were.

Thankfully he was as reluctant as Zayn had hoped and prayed he would be in regards to expelling Niall and Zayn couldn’t keep the small smile of relief from his face.

 They discussed punishment and Simon phoned Niall’s foster parents, asking them to come into school to talk about what Niall had done and what the school was going to do in response, as Zayn made his way back to the extra English room with messages to pass on.

 “And?” Louis asked upon his return.  

 Zayn smiled at him and the tension seemed to flood out of Louis’ body, “you’re wanted back in main office, there are some forms for you to fill out.”

 Louis nodded, matching Zayn’s smile, before slipping from the room.

 Zayn walked to the back of the classroom where Niall sat, head still in his hands, not looking at anything but the desk in front of him.

 He pulled the chair next to Niall away from the desk before sitting on the table and using the chair as a foot stool.

 Niall finally chanced a look up at him and, when he spoke, his voice was small and rough, “are you going to expel me?”

 Zayn shook his head, “you’re very lucky, Mr Cowell has decided to give you another chance.”

 Niall looked confused, as if he didn’t quite understand what Zayn had said, and Zayn wondered if he was in shock.

 He looked paler than usual.

“Mr Tomlinson said it was an accident.” Zayn told him, slowly, hoping that the words would sink in. “And Mr Cowell believed him.”

 Niall gave him a tentative smile, one that Zayn returned, and he let his hands drop to the desk and he sat up straighter.

 “But what happened was very serious, Niall, and you’re still in a lot of trouble.”

 Niall nodded.

 “I’m going to have to punish you.” Zayn said, forcing the smile from his face, knowing he had to be serious about this. “You can’t get away with that you’ve done.”

 Niall gave him a betrayed look and Zayn didn’t understand.

 Niall had to have known that he wasn’t going to be able to get away with what he had done without getting into any kind of trouble, right?

 Even if it was an accident, violence didn’t go unpunished at school.

 But then Niall’s hands were on his belt, fingers fiddling with the buckle, as his whole body shook.

 Zayn jerked back from his touch and surprise made his words harsh, “what are you doing?!”

 And then Niall burst into tears.


	12. Chapter Twelve

When Mr Malik had said  _those words_ , Niall had never felt so betrayed.

 So hurt.

 He had thought he could trust Mr Malik, had thought that, perhaps, Mr Malik maybe liked him enough, or maybe hated him enough, to not to force him to do this and that he would never ask him to do what Mr Peet made him do.

 But then he had said  _those words_.

 Those words and Niall had known he had wanted the same because Mr Peet always used those words when he wanted Niall to do  _that_.

 But Mr Malik had moved away, looked shocked, and Niall didn’t know what to do.

 All the pressure of the last week, of everything that had happened, of everything that he had been forced to do, of everything that he had become hated for, had started to push down on him and he had felt himself beginning to crack.

 He hadn’t been able to stop himself from crying like a baby.

 Though he knew that tears would get him nowhere, he hadn’t been able to stop.

 And then Mr Malik had asked him so many questions- what had he been thinking? Why had he thought that had been appropriate?- and Niall had just cried harder and harder because he was sure that the look on Mr Malik’s face was one of disgust.

 But Mr Malik had kept on asking him why, why, why.

 And Niall had told him, “I thought it was what you wanted, it’s what Mr Peet always wants when he says those words.”

 Mr Malik had made him tell him exactly what Mr Peet wanted, what they did together, when they did it and how long it had been going on for.

 And still Niall had cried and cried and cried because it had felt like Mr Malik was pulling his brain apart, looking for information, and Niall didn’t understand why.

 Did Mr Malik want the same things?

 Was he judging Niall?

 Was he disgusted now that he knew how much of a whore Niall was?

 Niall had kept on telling Mr Malik that he hadn’t wanted to, that Mr Peet made him, had expected it from him, but he wasn’t sure if Mr Malik had believed him.

 He had made him tell Mr Cowell the same thing and then he had been brought to a room where Mr Malik had sat with him for hours and hours, telling him that everything was going to be okay, and giving his cups of tea that Niall never drunk.

 And then Julie and Dan had arrived and Julie was crying and Dan looked angry and they, too, asked him why, why, why.

 “It was what he wanted.” Niall had told them. “I didn’t want to get into trouble.”

 But that had only made Julie cry harder and Dan look angrier and Niall knew it was too late.

 And then the police had turned up and they had wanted to know what everyone else  had wanted to know and they had frightened Niall so much because he was sure that they would realise that it was all his fault and take him away and lock him up for the rest of his life.

They hadn’t.

 Instead they had recorded his voice and had told him how brave he was for telling them this and that he didn’t have anything to worry about.

 That he hadn’t done anything wrong.

 Niall didn’t believe them.

 Didn’t understand them.

 He had always done something wrong.

 Then Julie and Dan had taken him back to their house and had made him sit in the living room with them and the other kids for the rest of the night, watching TV and eating dinner and doing everything but talk about what had happened at school, and he hadn’t been allowed to disappear to his room like he usually would until it got late and they had decided it was bedtime.

 He’d had nightmares that night, terrible ones that had him waking up screaming and crying, and he hadn’t been able to fall back asleep.

 Julie had stayed with him for a while after that, trying to sooth him, but he had been inconsolable and she had gone back to bed once she realised that there was nothing she could do.

 That there was nothing that Niall would let her do.

 He hadn’t liked her being so close.

 It had made him feel sick.

 He had gotten up with the rest of the kids and tried to eat breakfast with them, though he wasn’t hungry, but he hadn’t gotten dressed into his school uniform.

 He was still suspended.

 He wondered if they hadn’t expelled him, too, after what he had told them yesterday and no one had remembered to tell him.

 Dan had been home during the day but Niall had hidden away in his bedroom, feeling tired and scared.

 The same thoughts had kept swirling around in his mind, making it spin, and he had felt sick to his stomach.

 He had wondered what they were planning.  

 Were they going to punish him?

 Send him away?

 Send him back to his Dad?

 Strangely, he missed him.

 Missed life with him.

 Because then everything had been simple and he had known what to expect.

 How to act.

 But now, here, everything was so complicated and it didn’t matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get anything right.

 All he had ever tried to do was survive, to keep people from hurting him, and now it was all so complicated and confusing and everyone hated him.

 They hated him.

 Liam wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t talk to him.

 Harry threatened him with violence every time he went close.

 Mr Tomlinson had to be angry at him, had to be, because Niall had  _hit_ him and now Mr Malik knew what he had done with Mr Peet and was disgusted at him.

 And he hadn’t known what to do.

 Julie had arrived home at the same time that Craig, Katie and Will had returned from school and she had made the six of them sit around the table and eat dinner together.

 Even though Niall had said that he wasn’t hungry, she made him.

 And Niall had been glad when it was over.

He had felt Will’s heavy gaze on him the entire time because Julie had only had eyes for Niall the whole meal and Dan had kept asking Niall pointless questions about his day that Niall hadn’t answered. 

 Then Dan had gone to work and Katie had gone out and Craig had gone to his room to do homework and Niall had stuck to Julie’s side because he knew the moment that he moved away that Will was going to hurt him.

 He had seen him grow angrier and angrier as the evening progressed and he wondered why no one else could see through Will’s smiles.

 They were filling the dishwasher when Julie got a phone call from work.

 “I’m going to have to go back to the hospital.” She told them, looking at Niall worriedly. “There’s been a big accident on the motorway and they need all the help that they can get.”

 Niall begged her not to go because he didn’t want to be left alone with Will.

 He didn’t.

Because he knew the other teen was going to hurt him.

 But Julie wouldn’t listen to him and she left with a promise that she’d be home as soon as she could.

 Niall knew it wouldn’t be soon enough.

 Will waited until they heard her car pulling out of the drive before turning to Niall, his smile now a deep scowl.

 “I’m sorry.”  Niall said before Will could speak.   

 “Sorry? You’re  _sorry_?” Will hissed, advancing on Niall. “I told you, I warned you to leave. They’re mine and you’ve stolen them.”

 “No.” Niall said, backing up quickly, painfully aware of the knife that Will held tightly in his fist, even if the other boy wasn’t. “They’re yours, not mine. I know. I’m sorry.”

 Will just shook his head, “I told you to leave.”

 And then he swung at Niall and Niall brought an arm up to cover his face and the cold steel of the knife ripped into his flesh.

 Niall let out a scream of pain and something inside of him snapped.

 He wasn’t safe.

 He wasn’t safe.

 Will was going to kill him and he wasn’t safe.

 He ran.

 He didn’t know where he was going but he knew he had to get away.

 Had to find somewhere where no one would hurt him.

 Where no one could hate him.

 Because Will hated him.

 Just like Harry hated him.

 Like Liam hated him.

 Mr Tomlinson hated him.

 Mr Malik hated him.

 Everyone hated him.

 They had called him a whore and a slut and he knew he was disgusting and dirty and worthless and he understood.

 He finally understood.

 He was  _wrong_.

 Everything about him.

 Wrong, wrong, wrong.

 Even if they had been the ones to make Niall do those things.

 They had expected it from him, forced it from him, and Niall had only ever wanted to survive. 

 Why were they so angry?

 All he had ever wanted was to live and to not to hurt.

 But they wouldn’t let him.

 And he liked Liam.

 He liked him in a way that he had never liked anyone before and he thought Liam had liked him, too.

 Niall had tried to make Liam happy but now Liam was angry at him because of what he had done with Harry.

 Niall had tried to make him see, to make him understand, that he had only done those things because they kept Niall safe.

 Kept Harry happy.

 Because if Harry was happy then he wouldn’t hurt Niall.

 But then he had.

 He had really hurt him.

 And he hadn’t stopped, not even when Niall had begged, and he had hurt Niall.

 Hurt him, hurt him, hurt him.

 And Liam hadn’t listened.

 And now Harry wouldn’t even let him come close and kept shooting Niall glares whenever they crossed paths, as if Niall had been the on to hurt  _him_.

 But he hadn’t.

 He hadn’t.

 And Niall missed the simplicity of what he had done with Harry. Missed the certainty, missed knowing what was expected of him, what he had to do to keep himself safe.

 Where he stood.

 But now he was so lost.

 So frightened.

Because he didn’t know what was going to happen to him.

 What everyone was going to do.

 They all knew how dirty he was, how worthless.

 That he was a whore.

 They hated him.

 They hated him and he hurt.

 He hurt so much.

 And it was cold.

 It was so cold as he stumbled through the dark streets, not thinking, just walking.

 And his whole body shook from the cold November wind that battered him.

 And there was so much blood.

 It was streaming from his arm and soaking the dark jumper he wore, making it cling to his skin.

 He wondered how nobody in the cars driving passed had noticed.

 Or maybe they had.

 Maybe they saw that he was hurting and dying and they didn’t care.

 Maybe they knew.

 Maybe the whole world knew.

 He wasn’t worth saving. 

 He felt so sick and dizzy and he was crying.

 He knew he had to find somewhere, he needed to find someone, where he could be safe.

 Where he wouldn’t hurt anymore.

 He wanted the pain to stop.

 He wanted everything to stop.

 He wanted someone to love him.

 To make everything better.

 And Liam had loved him.

 Liam.

 Liam.

 Liam.

 But Liam had hurt him, too.

 He hadn’t listened to him.

 Hadn’t let him explain.

 Had called him a whore.

 But Liam needed to know, didn’t he?

 He needed to know that they had made him.

 That Niall didn’t want it.

 And that Niall knew.

 Knew he wasn’t good enough for what Liam wanted because he was dirty and used and nothing like what Liam deserved.

 And suddenly he was stood in front of a door he recognised and he was banging his fists against it.

 Staining it with his blood.

 Ruining it.

 And he was speaking and gasping and apologising before the door was even pulled open but it wasn’t Liam.

 It wasn’t him.

 It was his Mum.   

 She was wrapped in a dressing gown and her face was pulled into a tired frown and Niall realised it must be late but he didn’t care.

 He couldn’t.

 Because Liam needed to know.

 “It’s the middle of the night.” She said and Niall thought she might have looked angry. “What are you doing here, Niall?”

 But no more words would come and the world was spinning and he could feel bile rising in the back of his throat.

 He stared at her with wild, wet eyes as he desperately tried to suck oxygen into his screaming lungs.

 “Niall? Are you okay?” She asked him and he shook his head, violently.

 His vision began to dim and her voice sounded like it was coming from miles away, “is that blood? Jesus Christ! Liam! Liam, quick, phone an ambulance…”

 And then he was falling.

 He was falling.  

 And when he hit the ground he shattered into a thousand pieces.

 Nobody had been there to catch him. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

 Louis frowned into the phone as he went to pour himself another glass of wine and found the bottle empty.

 Just when had that happened?

 His frown grew more pronounced as he noticed the slur in his words as he spoke, “I’ve drunken a whole bottle of wine while on the phone to you, Mum.”

 She laughed at him and told him to relax, that it was a Friday, and that he could sleep it off the next day but he wasn’t really listening.

 The whole thing gone, without him even realising.

 It had been years since he had drunken so much, the first year of university, perhaps, and he hadn’t even meant to.

And though it wasn’t a school night, though he had no plans for the rest of the weekend, nobody to blow off when the hangover hit him full force in the morning, he felt guilty.

 Because he knew what he was trying to do, even if it was an unconscious action.

 He was trying to forget.

Trying to forget everything that had happened over the last two days.

 Everything he had found out.

And it wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t, because he’d never be able to forget.

 Never.

 No matter how much he drunk or what he did, he’d never forget.

 Because it had all happened under his nose and he hadn’t noticed.

 He hadn’t even realised.  

 But it was so obvious.

 So fucking obvious and he hadn’t seen it.

 No, that was wrong.

 Because Louis had picked up on the change in Niall’s moods before and after his tutoring sessions with  _him_ , had noticed the difference, but he hadn’t worked out what it had meant.

 What that sick bastard was forcing him to do.   

 Louis had just thought he hated maths.

 How could he have been so stupid?

 How could he have let Niall down so badly?

 He had promised him that no one would hurt him, not at school, not where he was supposed to be safe, but he had let that promise be broken.

 He hadn’t been there when Niall needed him the most and it hurt so much.

 Because he had let Niall down.

 Had let him be molested by a pervert pretending to be a teacher and he had never once thought that more might have been going on other than lessons.

 Niall had never said anything and Louis had never looked beyond his silence for the truth.

 Had never looked for what he had never said.

 And he was so angry, too.

 Furious, perhaps.

 Because he should have seen it.

 He should have been able to stop it.

 But he hadn’t.

 He had been blind and he hated himself.

 He hated the world, the universe, everything.

 Because it just wasn’t  _fair_.

 Niall was a good kid, a sweet kid, and he didn’t deserve the shit hand that life had dealt him.

 No one deserved what Niall had been through.

 Nobody.

 But especially not Niall.

 He didn’t realise he was sobbing until his Mum’s shrill and worried voice dragged him from his thoughts, demanding his attention, and he broke down completely as he repeated to her what was going through his mind.

 She tried to shush him and soothe him, tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that there wasn’t anything that he could have done, but he didn’t listen.

 He couldn’t.

 Because she didn’t know, she didn’t understand, just how much he had failed Niall.

 He had been right there!

 Seen how Niall was straight after his tutor sessions with Mr Peet.

 He should have known.

 He should have seen.

 But, he hadn’t.

 Someone banged on his door then and Louis jumped, letting the phone drop from his hands, before bringing the watch on his wrist close to his face to see the time.

 It was late.

 He fumbled with the phone, picking it up once more, and murmured reassurances that he was okay to his Mum through hiccupped breaths as he moved to the door.

 Louis interrupted a second round of knocking when he twisted his key in the lock and pulled his front door open.   

 Zayn was stood on the other side, his hair a mess and his coat thrown on haphazardly over a plain white t-shirt and faded jeans, and he looked worried.

 No.

 He looked more than worried, he looked frightened.

 Something had happened.

 “Mum? I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back tomorrow, okay? I love you. Bye.” He hung up without giving her chance to respond. “What’s going on?”

 Fear and anxiety burned in the pit of his stomach and he suddenly felt almost sober.   

 Zayn gave him a concerned look, seeing the fresh tear tracks on his face, but he didn’t ask Louis about them, “get your coat, we need to go.”

 Louis ducked back into his flat and stuffed his feet into shoes and pulled his coat on before stumbling into the hallway, into Zayn, and locked the door behind himself.

 “Shit, Lou, have you been drinking?” Zayn asked.

 “A little.” Louis lied. “But I’m okay. Why? What’s happened? Is it Niall?”

 Zayn nodded and Louis struggled to keep up with him as he marched down the hall, “I got a call from his foster Mum about quarter of an hour ago.”

 “Saying what?” Louis asked, fear and anxiety now bubbling and boiling and threatening to overwhelm.

“He’s missing.” Zayn said, shortly, “and he’s hurt.”

 They were in the stairwell now and only a few more seconds from fresh air.

 Louis’ world was fuzzy and out of focus but he didn’t let himself fall behind.

 He couldn’t fail Niall.

 Not again.

 “Hurt?” He asked. “How badly?”

 “I don’t know, she didn’t say.” Zayn gave a small shrug of the shoulders. “I don’t think she knows herself, she got called into work a couple of hours ago and hasn’t been able to leave.”

 “Then how does she-?”

 Zayn cut him off, “one of the kids called her, told her he had found one of the others in the kitchen with a knife.”

 “What?”

 “Get in the car, we need to find him.” Zayn said, his voice hard from worry. “He said there was a lot of blood.”

 “Oh, fuck.” Louis breathed, doing as he was told. “What if-.”

 “Don’t, Lou,  _please_.” Zayn looked at him through wet lashes as he started the car. “I can’t think like that. I can’t…”

 “It’ll be okay.” Louis promised him even as his stomach twisted violently. “We’ll find him, it’ll be okay.”

 Zayn nodded and offered him a shaky smile that Louis forced himself to return and then they were driving through the streets.

 “The police are looking for him, too.” Zayn told him, quietly, as they peered out of the windows and into the dark that seemed to press down on them, threatening to swallow them. “But there’s been a massive accident on the motorway so they’ve not been able to put as many people out to look for him as they usually would.”    

 “Can nothing go right for him?” Louis asked.

 Zayn didn’t answer and they fell into a tense silence.

 They crawled through the streets at a snail’s pace, angering the motorists around them, but they didn’t care.

 Neither of them could think of anything other than Niall.

 He needed them and they had sworn to themselves that they weren’t going to let him down.

 Not again.

 Louis had long lost track of time and his eyes felt dry and tired by the time that Zayn pulled the car over.

 “What are you doing?” Louis asked, dragging his gaze to meet Zayn’s. “We can’t stop-.”

 Zayn just shook his head and pulled his phone from his pocket and Louis heard it buzzing in his grasp.

 Zayn pressed the phone against his ear but he didn’t look away from Louis, “hello?”

 Louis watched as Zayn’s face softened and a small smile began to tug at his lips and Louis let the tension flood from his body.

 They had found him.

 “Thank God, how is he?” Zayn’s smile faltered. “Okay, I understand… Yeah, we’ll be right there. See you soon.”

 “What’s wrong?” Louis asked as soon as Zayn disconnected the call.

 “They found him.” Zayn told him.

 “I guessed that much.” Louis said with a frown.

 “Dr Miller, she said- she didn’t know much but she said…” He let himself trail off, his voice shaking and fat tears rolling lazily down his face. “She said that it isn’t looking good.”

 “Oh.” Louis said and he felt his heart break.

 “I just-  _fuck_.” Zayn choked out and then he started to sob.

 Louis didn’t think, didn’t let himself wallow in his own misery and hurt, and instead pulled Zayn into a tight hug, ignoring the way that the gear stick dug into his side.

 Zayn clung to him and gasped through heaving breaths, “why? What has he done to deserve all this  _shit_?”

 Louis just hugged him closer.

 “It’s not fair.” Zayn choked out.

 “I know.” Louis whispered, his breath hot against Zayn’s cheek.

 “I should have stopped this, I should have done something.”

 “You couldn’t have done anything to stop this from happening.” Louis told him.

 “At school- I should have known something was wrong! I knew what the kids called  _him_ , but I thought it was just a joke, I didn’t think he ever actually…” Zayn let out another sob. “This is all my fault?”

 “What?” Louis asked, confused. “How is it your fault?”

“I was the one who set those lessons up for Niall, made him go to them-.”

 “And I was the one who didn’t notice that anything was wrong.” Louis told him, guilt stabbing at him, sharply, and making it hard to breathe. “I spend nearly every minute of every day with him and I didn’t notice a fucking thing. I just tho- I just thought he hated maths.”

 Louis was crying now, too, and his chest ached and his vision swam.

 “I should have known something was wrong but I didn’t. I let it happen, Zayn.”

“No.” Zayn shook his head. “This isn’t your fault.”

 “I should have-.”

 Zayn moved back in Louis’ embrace and put a hand on the older man’s chin and tilted his face so that they could lock eyes and repeated, “this isn’t your fault.”

 “I could have stopped it from happening.”

 “You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Zayn told him.

 “Then neither should you.” Louis replied.

 Zayn opened his mouth to protest but Louis cut him off by pressing his lips to Zayn’s.

 He didn’t know why he did it.

 Maybe it was the alcohol or his own pain and self-hate that he saw reflected in Zayn’s eyes or maybe a combination of the two or maybe a million different reasons that Louis didn’t quite understand but Zayn didn’t pull away.

He twisted his fingers in Louis’ hair and they could both taste the salty tang of tears on the other’s lips.

 It was rushed and lacked anything but the need to  _not feel alone_ but Louis found himself melting into Zayn’s touch and drawing from him the strength he knew he’d need to see him through the rest of the night.

 Zayn smiled at him when they parted and something fluttered in the pit of Louis’ stomach.

 “We should get to the hospital.” Louis mumbled.

 “Yeah.” Zayn said.

 He took one of Louis’ hands in his own as he started the engine and gave it a squeeze.

 Louis squeezed back.

-

 Liam was in his pyjamas.  

 He was in public and in his pyjamas.

 There was blood on them.

 Niall’s blood.

 He was in public in his pyjamas and there was Niall’s blood on them.

 The thoughts kept swirling around his mind as he sat in the hospital waiting room, tucked into his Mum’s side, even if he didn’t fit properly anymore, and he thought that maybe he was in shock.

 Because Niall had turned up on his doorstep, bleeding and crying, and he had passed out.

 And there had been just so much blood.

 So much.

 Red and wet and  _everywhere_.

 It was all over his Mum’s dressing gown, soaking it and staining the pale blue a horrible rust colour now that it had dried, and he could smell its metallic scent, hanging heavily in the air.

 It made him feel sick.

 He had already had spent quarter of an hour hunched over a hospital toilet, retching and heaving, but nothing had come up and still his stomach twisted uneasily.

 And all he could think of was the blood.

 All he wanted to think about was the blood because if he started thinking about Niall…

 If he started thinking about him hidden away in a room somewhere, about how his face had been so grey and lifeless, how the cut on his arm had gaped and poured red, and if he really started thinking about Niall then it always came back to maybe,  _maybe_ , Niall was dying.

 Because maybe they had been too late. 

 Maybe he had lost too much blood.

 Maybe…

 Maybe…

 Liam didn’t want to think about maybes.

 They scared him, terrified him.

 That was why it was better to think about the blood.

 The blood was real.

 Its colour, its smell, the way it had crusted on their clothes.

 It was real.

 It didn’t offer possibilities, just showed what had happened, and Liam needed that.

 And it was Niall’s.

 It let him feel close to him, even if he was so far away, and that, too, Liam needed.

 He needed to be close to Niall.

 He needed to tell him that he was sorry.

 That he had spoken in anger.

 That he hadn’t meant it.

 That Liam was willing to forgive him.

 Because Liam loved him.

 He loved him and he didn’t want to lose him.

 And Niall had said that he loved him, too.

 Liam had shouted at him the last time he had heard Niall tell him that, had called him a liar, and he wished that he could take it back.

 Take it all back.

 He wished he had given Niall a chance to explain.

 A chance to speak instead of cutting him off.

 He couldn’t even remember what Niall had been trying to say and what if that had changed everything?

 What if it had made everything better?

 What if it had been enough to make Liam forgive him?

 Could he have said anything to get Liam to forgive him?

 He didn’t know.

 He didn’t.

 Because Niall had cheated and that hurt so much but not as much as thought of losing him forever did.

 Liam was ready now.

 He hadn’t been before but he was ready now.  

 Because he had been so angry when Niall had tried to talk to him, angrier than he had ever been before, and that had fuelled him and driven him to say those awful things.

 To push Niall away.

 He didn’t feel any of that anger now.

 Just fear.

 Fear that he’d never hear Niall tell him that he loved him again.

 And it all came back to possibility again.

 The chances that he might never have.               

 He hated possibility.

 He just wanted to know.

 Was Niall going to be okay?

 That’s all he needed.

 All he’d ever need was for Niall to be okay.

 He loved Niall, he loved him so much, and he wanted to hear Niall say he loved him back.

 It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

 Was it?

 He prayed it wasn’t.

 Julie had stopped by a few times, caught between patients, and gave them news if she had any or questioned them if they had heard anything if she hadn’t and Liam had never seen her look so scared.

 That frightened Liam.

 The A&E department was a mess of people and Liam saw there were other people covered in blood.

 Their own or someone else’s, he wasn’t quite sure, but it made him feel slightly better.

 Helped to fight against his fear.

 He wasn’t so out of place.

 Even if he was in his pyjamas.

 Julie had been stopping by for the second time when Mr Malik and Mr Tomlinson had arrived, looking dishevelled and worried, but Liam hadn’t been shocked because he knew how much they both cared about Niall.

 They had sat next to Liam and Mr Malik had gotten them all coffees from the machine and they had sat in silence and waited.

 Hours seemed to drag by in silence.

 “You haven’t been in school for a couple of days.” Mr Malik said to him once they had all finished their second cups of coffee.

 Liam shook his head, “I’ve been ill.”

 It was a lie.

 “He doesn’t know.” Mr Tomlinson mumbled and his eyes looked suspiciously bright, like he might cry.

 “Know what?” Liam asked and he could feel bile rise in the back of his throat.

 “I don’t know if it’s our place to say.” Mr Malik said, softly.

 “The whole school knows.” Mr Tomlinson said, just as quietly. “With the police questioning everyone he’s taught… He’ll find out.”

 “Oh, Jesus.” His Mum said then, making him jump. “I saw something in the newspaper this morning about Liam’s school, about a teacher and a boy and he…shit- it wasn’t Niall, was it? Please…please tell me it wasn’t.”

 “What are you talking about?” Liam looked between his mother and Mr Malik.

 Mr Tomlinson was staring at the floor, his fingers twisted in his hair, and he wouldn’t even look in Liam and his Mum’s direction.

 “No.” Liam’s Mum whispered and then she burst into tears.

 “Mum?”

 But she just shook her head at him.

 He turned desperate eyes on Mr Malik and the older man let out a long sigh, “Mr Peet was arrested yesterday.”

 “Why?” Liam asked, his voice cracking, but he thought he already knew the answer, his mind going back to the first ever reading session he had had with Niall, what they had spoken about.

 Paedo Peet.

 “Liam…”

 “No, no it was just a rumour, something someone made up, Mr Peet wouldn’t, he’s a teacher-.”

 Mr Malik just looked at him and Liam knew it was true.

 “Oh, God.” He said. “Oh, God. No.”

 “Liam.” Mr Malik said again.

 “How- how long?”

 “A month, maybe longer.”

 “He never said anything.”

 “I know.”

 “Why didn’t he say anything?” 

 “I don’t know.”

 “I feel sick.” Liam said and he was suddenly choking back vomit.

 Mr Malik swore and hauled him to his feet and dragged him to the closest bathroom, pushing his head over the toilet just in time for Liam to throw up.

 Mr Malik rubbed at his back but he didn’t say anything, not even when Liam broke down and sobbed and collapsed onto the cold, tiled floor, Mr Malik just sat down next to him.

 It seemed to take forever for his sobs to quiet and then disappear but Mr Malik didn’t complain and Liam was beyond caring.

 He felt numb.

 Empty.

 “Why?” He asked and he hoped Mr Malik would understand.

 Because he needed to know.

 “I don’t know.” Mr Malik told him. “I really don’t.”

 Fresh tears welled in Liam’s eyes, just when he thought he could cry no more.

 “We need to be strong for him.” Mr Malik said. “When he’s out of hospital, he’s going to need us to help him get through all of this.”

 “What if-.” Liam started, putting his biggest fear into words.

 “He’ll be okay.” Mr Malik cut him off. “You’ll see. Niall’s a fighter, he’s not going to give up. I know he won’t.”

 “How do you know? After everything…”

 Mr Malik shrugged, “I don’t know if Niall knows how to give up. He’s been fighting to survive his whole life and he’s made it this far. He’ll be okay.”

 Liam nodded and tried to make himself believe. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

 Mr Malik took him out of inclusion first lesson on Monday morning and they went into a small room that Harry had never been in before.

 Mr Malik looked unusually serious and Harry wondered what he could have possibly done wrong for Mr Malik to look at him like that.

 He had been in inclusion for so long now and he didn’t really have the opportunity to get into trouble like he once had.

 Like that mattered.

 They had probably found something to punish him for.

 They always did.

 And sometimes he understood and sometimes he didn’t.

 He understood why he was in inclusion now, he knew that hurting Niall like that had been wrong and he still felt uneasy with the memory of blood on his hands, but there had been times in the past when he had only reacted to the actions of those around him and he had found himself suspended or trapped in inclusion for days on end without understanding why.

 Mr Malik or Mr Tomlinson always tried to explain and sometimes what they said made sense and other times it just made him angrier and more confused.

 He had tried so hard this year, though.

 It was his last year of school and he knew he had to try.

 But Niall had destroyed all that.

 There was something about him that drew Harry to him, that made him follow him, that made him want to make Niall happy, to make Niall love him.  

 He wanted Niall to love him.

 Him and only him.

 And so what if he had gotten into trouble for trying to make Niall laugh during lessons?

 So what if he had been scolded and put on warnings for provoking Niall into releasing his anger through arguments?

 Who cared that he had pushed and pushed until Niall had either burst into giggles or stormed from the classroom?

 It had felt good.

 So good.

 Because at those times Harry knew that Niall was thinking about him and no one else.

 Not Mr Tomlinson or Mr Malik or any of the other teachers.

 Not that sixth former.

 No one but Harry.

 And Harry liked that.

 He lived for those moments when he was Niall’s everything, when Niall could see no one else but Harry, and that was why he had been willing to take a gamble that day.

 Not that he had planned that first day around the side of the school when he had kissed Niall but he was glad, despite everything that had happened since then, that he had.

 Because Niall had kissed him back, had done other things, too, and Harry had believed that he really was Niall’s world.

 And maybe he was Niall’s world, too.

He had never been happier than these last weeks when he had thought that was true.

 Even if he had spent his days locked up in inclusion, away from Niall, away from everybody, and even it destroyed his chances of getting good grades at the end of the year, it didn’t really matter.

 Not when he’d had Niall.

 Thursdays had been Harry’s favourite day of the week because those had been the days when Harry had been able to see Niall after school and they’d done things that expressed how much they meant to one another.

 And Harry had always had to show Niall how he felt because he wasn’t good with words.

 They often came out sounding different to how he wanted them to or the words changed on the journey from his brain to his lips and he ended up saying something else entirely.

 No, it had always been better to show Niall how he felt.

 He had thought that Niall had felt the same way.

 He hadn’t.

 Of course he hadn’t.

 After Harry had showed him how much he really liked him, loved him, Niall had revealed it all to be a game.

 It was cruel and it had made Harry so fucking angry just because he had been so hurt.

 And he still hurt.

 It was like he had been knifed, like someone was shredding his insides, and it hurt so fucking much but he wasn’t angry anymore.

 He wasn’t.

 He hurt too much to be angry.

 It didn’t mean that he didn’t hate Niall, though, for what he had done to him, for playing him like that, for letting him  _believe_.

 But he loved him, too, and love won out.

 He hadn’t been able to seek Niall out and hurt him back and make him suffer like Harry suffered because the memory of blood on his knuckles still weighed heavily on him.

 He couldn’t hurt Niall like that again.

 Though, he had hit him a couple of times when the impulse had been too strong for Harry to control it and Niall had pushed him into doing it but it had never been hard enough to really hurt.

 Not really.

 He only hit so that Niall would do what Harry wanted him to.

 It was the easiest way to do it.

 Harry wasn’t good with words, after all, and Niall always did what he wanted after Harry had hit him.

 And sometimes, afterwards, Harry felt bad about it.

 Most of the time he didn’t because it was what he had needed to do to show Niall that he loved him and it had been better to hit Niall and show him that rather than let him run away and never know, wasn’t it?

 Harry knew he had made the right decision.

 And even if he still hurt, he didn’t regret anything he had done with Niall.

 He just couldn’t make himself.

 “How are you doing, Harry?” Mr Malik asked him.

 “Fine.”

 “Mrs Rogers says that you’re doing really well in inclusion and that you’ve been doing all the work you’ve been set.”

 Harry scowled at him.

 He knew that Mr Malik knew he hated inclusion.

 It wasn’t a secret.

 “I wanted to talk to you, Harry.” Mr Malik said, still looking as serious he had when he had led Harry into the room. “About Niall.”

 Harry’s scowl deepened, “what about him?”

 “I know the two of you are close.” Mr Malik said and he gave Harry a look he couldn’t read. “So I thought you should know.”

 “Know what?”

 “He’s in the hospital.”

 “What?” His insides twisted painfully and he thought he felt sick. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

 “I’m going to be honest with you, Harry, he’s not very well.” 

 “Is he going to die?” Harry hadn’t wanted to ask the question but the words had slipped from his mouth before he had even known what he was saying.

 “He lost a lot of blood and it was almost too late by the time they got him to the hospital but the doctors don’t think he’s going to die.”

 “Then what’s wrong with him?”

 “He’s in a coma and they don’t know when he’s going to wake up.”

 Harry just stared at him as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

 “I know it’s frightening and a lot to take in but I thought it was better that I tell you instead of letting you find out another way.”

Harry nodded and, again, his mouth acted without his brain’s input, “can I see him?”

 “I’ll take you to see him when he wakes up.” Mr Malik told him.

 Harry nodded and he hid this new hurt behind a scowl.

 He didn’t know what else to do.

-

 Liam had spent hours by Niall’s bedside and he still wasn’t used to the sight of him.

 He looked too small in the hospital bed, swamped by the crisp white sheets and drowning in the hospital gown they had dressed him in, and young, too.

 Younger than Liam ever remembered him looking.

 The worries that Niall usually carried around with him had been erased by his sleep and Liam couldn’t help but think that he looked at peace even if he looked so obviously ill with his face being an alarming shade of grey and the waxy sheen that clung to it.

 Liam would still run his fingers through Niall’s hair despite it being lank and messy and he would hold Niall’s hand in his own and squeeze it, though, he knew that Niall wouldn’t, couldn’t, squeeze back.

 He tried to ignore the bulky bandages that covered one of his arms and he tried to forget what he had seen under there.

 He’d had nightmares about it.

 But, most of all, he tried not to worry.

 The doctors had said that Niall was going to be okay and that he’d wake up soon, that he really shouldn’t worry, but he couldn’t help himself.

 He loved Niall with everything he had, how could he not worry? 

 Julie had reassured him so many times that Niall was going to be okay but Liam couldn’t make himself believe her, not until Niall opened his eyes and Liam saw for himself.

 Julie had told him other things, too.

 That Will, Niall’s foster brother, had been taken out of the house, that he was in trouble with the police for what he had done, that he was seeing a psychologist, too.

 He knew that losing Will had made Julie upset and Liam thought he understood because he was her son, too, and he’d been with Dan and Julie for a lot longer that Niall had but, at the same time, he couldn’t understand. Will had hurt Niall, nearly killed him, and he deserved to be punished for that.

 Just like Mr Peet.

 Just like Niall’s Dad.

 They all deserved to be punished for what they had done to him.

 It made him so angry to think about how badly Niall had been hurt.

 And by so many people.

 It wasn’t fair.

 It really wasn’t.

 Because Niall had never stopped smiling, had never stopped laughing, had never _stopped_.

 Even when the world had turned its back on him, Niall had never stopped and Liam didn’t understand how he had managed to live like that. He knew he couldn’t have. He knew he would have cracked and crumbled before any of it could have got this far.

 He wasn’t as strong as Niall.

 The doctors had told him that it was a miracle that Niall had been able to make the journey to his house, let alone bang on the door with enough force to draw attention to himself, as he had just lost so much blood.

 He had been so close to dying, they had told him, if he hadn’t have gotten to the hospital when he had then it might have been too late.

 Liam had only smiled at their words and nodded and wondered.

 Why had Niall come to him?

 Was it because he had thought that Liam could help?

 Had he thought Liam would have been able to keep him safe?

 Or was it more than that?

 Maybe Niall still loved him, even after Liam had pushed him away, and that’s why he had sought out Liam, to tell him that.

 He hoped it was because of that.

 He really did.

 And maybe that was why he spent so many hours by Niall’s bedside.

 He was clinging to the dream that when Niall woke up, they’d lock eyes and declare their undying love for one another.

 Niall would apologise for cheating on him.

 Liam would forgive him.

 And then they’d both forget and move on with their lives, happy together.

 It didn’t happen like that.

 Liam wasn’t even at the hospital the first time that Niall woke up.

 The nurses told him that he hadn’t missed much.

 That all he had done was open his eyes and glance around the room and gone straight back to sleep.

 Liam wondered who he was looking for.

 He hoped it was him.

 He was there for the second time, though, and the third.

 They were as fleeting as the first and even though Liam held his hand and talked to him, Niall didn’t look at him or speak to him.

 It was as if Liam wasn’t there.

 The nurses and the doctors told him that this was normal, that Niall would become more aware of his surroundings as he grew stronger and was able to stay awake for longer, and that he shouldn’t worry.

 But he did worry because Niall was getting better and he still didn’t look at or talk to Liam.

 And maybe he could have understood if it was just him that Niall didn’t interact with because he had, after all, pushed Niall away but it wasn’t just Liam.

 It was everybody.

 The nurses, the doctors, Julie, Dan, Mr Malik, Mr Tomlinson, Liam’s Mum…

 Everybody.

 No one had heard him speak since he had woken up and his eyes seemed to gaze through people as if they weren’t there.

 Niall didn’t eat, either, unless someone held the food to his mouth and he had no interest in getting out of bed or doing anything.

 It was like he had given up and that terrified Liam.

 Niall wasn’t meant to give up.

 He was meant to be strong, he was meant to be a fighter.

 That’s what Mr Malik had said and Liam had made himself believe him because teachers always knew best, right?

 But Mr Malik looked as scared and worried as Liam did and Liam wondered if he regretted his words or if he was just sad.

 Liam didn’t know what to say anymore and he usually spent visiting hours sat in the chair at Niall’s bedside in silence, just watching him as the younger teen stared out into nothing.

 The days dragged on and seemed to mould into one long passage of time and Liam found himself growing frustrated.

 Niall’s mental state and a vicious infection had kept him in the hospital for this long but Liam knew it wouldn’t be long before he was released.

 “You need to start talking, you know.” Liam told him.

 Niall didn’t give any indication of having heard him and Liam sighed.

 “You can’t keep doing this.” Liam said and he took one of Niall’s limp hands in his own. “You can’t keep pretending that the rest of us don’t exist…”

 Liam could feel tears brimming in his eyes, “I’ve heard the doctors talking, Niall, and they think you’ve had some kind of break down. They want to take you to another kind of hospital once you’re well enough to leave here. They want to lock you up in some institution and pump you full of drugs until you’re better. I’ve heard them, Niall.”

 He brushed angrily at his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip as he tried to keep the tears at bay.

 There was a short silence as Liam tried to pull himself together.

 “They want to take you away, Niall, but they- I, I can’t.” Liam’s breath hiccupped. “I can’t lose you. I love you.”

 And then Niall turned and looked at him, actually looked at him, and Liam could see the tears in his eyes.

 “Niall?”

 “Liam.” Niall breathed and it was as if he was seeing Liam for the first time. “I-.”

 Then his face crumpled and he started to cry.  

 Liam was immediately on his feet and pulling Niall’s tiny frame into a hug, acting on instinct, but it had been the wrong thing to do.

 Niall didn’t try to push him away or fight him but instead sat shock still in Liam’s arms and screamed.

 Liam let go and jumped back from the bed but Niall didn’t stop.

 Not when nurses poured into his room.

 Not when they tried to shush and soothe him.

 Not even when they injected something into his IV.

 He screamed and screamed and screamed.

 Liam had never heard anything so terrible.

 And it hurt so bloody much because this was his Niall.

 His wonderful, beautiful Niall and he was broken.

 Broken.

 Sobs consumed Liam and he turned and fled.

-

 Zayn still wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not.

 It had seemed like a good idea at school but now he was at the hospital he wasn’t so certain.

 Niall was in a very fragile state of mind at the moment, what if Harry said or did something to upset him?

 What if they ended up arguing?

 What if Niall had a screaming fit like he’d had with Liam?

 What if Harry got angry and hit Niall?

 What if…

 What if…

 There were too many possibilities, too many doubts, but Zayn had promised Harry and he didn’t want to break his promise.

 He didn’t want Harry to think that all adults were liars.

 He had to know that he could trust them.

 That didn’t mean that Zayn hadn’t put the whole thing off, coming up with excuse after excuse, even after Niall had finally woken and he knew that Harry had been getting frustrated with him and Zayn hadn’t wanted to let him down but he wanted to protect Niall, too.

 He didn’t understand the relationship the two boys had going on but he knew it was something deeper than friendship, especially with the way that Harry acted around Niall and, not mention, the fact that Liam had caught the two having sex, there was definitely something more going on.

 He didn’t pretend to understand it, he didn’t even try, all he wanted was for the two boys to be happy and if they were happy with whatever relationship they had going on then that was enough for Zayn. He’d support them in whatever they decided.

 He just didn’t want Niall to get hurt again.

 Never again.

 Niall had already been through so much and Zayn knew that Harry didn’t have the best temper and could lash out when he was angry and Niall, with his past abuse, would probably take it without complaint, probably wouldn’t even realise that what Harry was doing was wrong, and Zayn didn’t want that.

 But Harry loved Niall, Zayn could see it as clear as day on his face, and he had no idea how to act. He’d grown up seeing his parents’ toxic relationship and, despite the hours spent with a psychologist, he probably had no idea what normal was.

 He didn’t know how to show his feelings properly or protect himself from getting hurt and Zayn…

He just worried.

 Probably more than was healthy but he’d rather worry than not care at all. He was a teacher, after all, and caring about his students made him good at what he did. 

 Or at least that’s what Louis said.

 Not that Louis was in any position to judge, he was just as bad, if not worse than Zayn was, when it came to his students.

 “What are you smiling about?” Harry asked him, gruffly, as the lift door pinged open.

 Zayn cleared his throat and tried to wipe the smile from his face, “nothing.”

 Well, that wasn’t technically true but he was sure that Harry didn’t want to hear the ins and outs of Zayn and Louis’ love life. 

 Harry followed him down the corridor without another word and they slipped into Niall’s room after knocking.

 “Hey, Niall, how are you doing today?” Zayn asked, forcing himself to smile, even if he didn’t feel like it.

 Niall still looked terrible, his skin too pale and the bags underneath his eyes too dark, but he wasn’t looking worse than the last time that Zayn had seen him. That, at least, was good news.

 “Okay.” Niall mumbled with a small shrug of his shoulders, not looking up from his hands.

 “That’s good.” Zayn told him and then he lifted the carrier bag he was carrying so Niall, if he had been looking, could see it easier. “I brought you some more coke, do you want me to put it in your bedside cabinet for you?”

 Niall nodded and Zayn quickly put the bottles in the grey cabinet next to Niall’s bed.

 He was disappointed to see the coke and the chocolates he had brought last time still sat untouched where he had left them and he wondered if Niall was eating by himself yet. He’d ask the nurses later, on the way out, there was no point asking Niall about it. He’d probably just shrug or not answer at all.

 “I brought Harry with me.” Zayn said, making Niall’s head snap up in surprise and his eyes widen.

 “Hi.” Harry said, moving closer to the bed as Zayn moved to sit in one of the chairs at the side of the room.

 “Hello.”

 Harry frowned at him, “you look sick.”

 “I’m okay.”

 “What happened?”

 Niall lifted up his bandaged arm for Harry to see, “knife.”

 “Did you do it yourself?”

 Niall shook his head.

 “Good.” Harry said.

 Then there was silence as both teens avoided looking at each other and shifted, nervously.

 “Why are you here?” Niall asked at last, shocking Zayn.

 It was the most he had heard Niall say since he had woken.

 Harry shrugged, “I wanted to see you.”

 “Why?”

 “Because I like you.” Harry said. “I really like you.”

 “You hurt me.” Niall told him and Zayn tried to keep the frown from his face.

 “I didn’t.” Harry crossed his arms across his chest.

 “You hurt me.” Niall repeated. “I said no but you didn’t listen, you didn’t stop.”

 “But-.”

 “You didn’t stop, Harry, you didn’t stop.” Niall had tears streaming down his face and he had pulled his knees up to his chest as he started to rock. “I didn’t want to do  _that_  with you but you made me.”

 Zayn didn’t bother hiding the frown now as he tried to work out what Niall meant by his words, though, his mind could only come up with one solution and he hoped and prayed to god that he was wrong.

 “You made me. I didn’t want to. You made me.”

“I had to show you.” Harry told him, anger and guilt warring for dominance on his face. “I lo- I really like you, Niall. I had to show you, you had to know.”

 “I didn’t want to have sex.” Niall choked out. “But you made me and now everybody hates me. They’re going to lock me up, Harry, and it’s all your fault.”

 But Zayn had stopped listening, the pounding of his heart drowning out the teens’ voices, and he could do nothing but stare in shock.

 Because…

  _Fuck_.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

 Harry had raped Niall.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

 “Can we run away?”

“Run away?” Liam repeated, frowning. “We can’t, Niall. We don’t have any money and we have nowhere to run away to.”

 “They want to lock me up.” Niall said, refusing to look at Liam, though, the older teen could see the tears welling in his eyes.

 He sighed, “they don’t want to lock you up, Niall. They want to take you someplace where they can help you get better.”

 “But I am better!” Niall said and he thrust his newly unbandaged arm at Liam. “Look! They said I could leave on Wednesday!”

 Liam could bring himself to look at the red and angry looking wound that marred Niall’s pale skin.

 It made him feel sick.

 It reminded him how close they had been to losing Niall and how he’d never be able to forget the sight of Niall out cold in his doorway, his Mum clutching him to her as she screamed for him to call an ambulance, and blood spilling everywhere.

 Covering everything.

 Ruining everything.

 “You need help.” Liam told him and he took one of Niall’s hands in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

 Niall didn’t flinch away or even try to move out of Liam’s grip.

 He just…

 Shutdown.

 It was worse than the screaming.

 Liam sighed again and told himself that he was doing the right thing. That Niall did desperately need some time away to work with psychologists and doctors so that he could build himself up into the person that he used to be.

 Liam hadn’t seen him smile in weeks.

 He missed it.

 He missed Niall.

 He was nothing like what he used to be.

 There was no more laughter, no more easy chatter, not more cheeky grins.

 There was nothing of Niall left.

 Nothing.

 And when he shut down like this…

 It was horrible.

 It was like the first week or so after he had woken up and he had been silent and unresponsive but this was somehow worse just because they were so unpredictable and any glimpse or hope of having Niall back was lost the moment he slipped into this state.

 The doctors and nurses called them comatose episodes and Liam hated them.

 No one was quite sure what triggered them.

 Whether there were certain words or actions or even if they were because of Niall’s internal thought processes.

 Because sometimes it was okay for Liam to touch Niall, to hold his hand, and other times it wasn’t.

 Sometimes it was okay to talk about what had happened, what was going to happen, and other times Niall would shut down and become an empty shell.

 Sometimes it happened while Niall was mid-sentence, without any warning, and that’s the kind which Liam hated the most because it meant that, maybe, it was all in Niall’s mind.

 That, maybe, it was going to take a lot for the doctors at the special hospital to fix him.

 If he could be fixed.

 Liam prayed that he could.

 He loved Niall, loved him with all his heart, and he wanted to be with him.

 He wanted to help him.

 But he knew he couldn’t.

 Not yet, at least, not until Niall was in a position to respond to his help.

 To his love.

 Niall was too fragile at the moment, too hurt, and Liam, however much he wanted to be with Niall, however much he wanted to wrap him up in cotton wool and keep him locked up somewhere safe and away from the rest of the world, knew that he had to let Niall go.

 For the moment at least.

 He knew that Niall needed help if he was going to get better.

 More help than Liam could give.

 Professional help.

 Nurses and doctors and psychologists and medication.

 People to watch him at all times.

 To keep him from getting hurt.

 Liam knew he couldn’t do that. He was just a kid and he didn’t have the knowledge or the experience that Niall needed to get better.

 He would do all he could, though.

He had spoken to his parents about visiting Niall as much as was possible while he was away in the special hospital- institution, really, but he didn’t like to call it that, it sounded too clinical, too severe- and they had agreed to drive him there whenever they could.

 He had looked up the conditions the doctors were trying to label Niall with, looking at how they were treated, how they could be cared for, if they could be managed.

If they could be cured.

 He had promised Niall that he would always be there for him, do whatever he needed.

He had promised to wait, too, until Niall was well enough for a relationship, though, this was a promise that he had kept to himself.

 He knew he couldn’t be anything more than a friend to Niall right now.

 Anything else could hurt him and Liam didn’t want to do that.

 He loved Niall too much.

 He couldn’t hurt him.

-

 Louis frowned as he followed Zayn down the English corridor, carefully avoiding the groups of students that milled about in the hallway, heading in the general direction of outside, and Louis tried to work out what he had done wrong.

 Everything had been so great between them and Zayn had seemed genuinely happy to be with Louis but then he had come back from the hospital on Thursday and things had changed.

 He had become distant and he deflected any question that Louis had sent his way, asking what was wrong, if anything had happened, and Louis wasn’t quite sure what to do anymore.

 He didn’t want to push things because he liked Zayn, he really liked him, and he didn’t want to ruin what they had.

 Because it had been so unexpected but so perfect, too.

 They were each other’s strength and everything they needed to get through the past couple of weeks.

 It was intense and the emotions had seemed to spring up from nowhere but Louis had never felt anything so  _real_  and he needed it.

 It was everything he had never known he was missing and Zayn was…

Zayn was the same friend he had had for years now.

 Just more.

 So much more.

 He was bright smiles and soft kisses as their alarm blared, he was wicked grins and dazzling eyes during the hours of school, he was warm hands and hot breath when they found those precious moments alone, he was tongues and lips and teeth and strengths and weaknesses.

 He was  _love_.

 And Louis didn’t want to lose that.

 That’s why he hadn’t pushed the issue at first. But now… now it had been almost a week and Zayn still wouldn’t talk to him properly and Louis just wanted to know what he had done wrong.

 He wanted to know he could fix it.

 Because he couldn’t let Zayn go, not yet, maybe not ever, and all he wanted was for it to work.

 For them to be happy.

 Together.

 They disappeared into Zayn’s classroom and Louis made sure to close the door behind them, intent on discussing this here and now while there was no chance for Zayn to escape.

 It was lunchtime and Louis knew they wouldn’t be disturbed.

 “Zayn…” He began, taking a seat on the table closest to the teacher’s desk where Zayn was sat, rummaging through his drawers.

 “Yeah, Lou?” He replied, distractedly.

 “Is there something wrong?”

 “I don’t know where my diary is, I thought I had left it in here earlier but I can’t find it.”

 Louis’ frown became more pronounced and he said, “that’s not what I meant.”

 Zayn didn’t look at him but his whole body tensed, “I know.”

 Louis slipped from the table and joined Zayn at the desk. He pushed some loose papers out of the way and uncovered Zayn’s missing diary, “is this what you’re looking for?”

 Zayn nodded and took the diary out of Louis’ hand and placed it on top of the papers and he still refused to look at his boyfriend.

 Louis wasn’t quite sure what to do or what to say.

 He didn’t want to ruin what they had, not when the feelings were still so fresh but deep and new and exciting, but he had to know what he could do to make things better.

 He didn’t want to be alone again and he liked Zayn.

 He really, really liked him.

  _Loved him._

 And he wanted them to work.

 He let out a soft sigh and offered his hand to Zayn.

 The younger man looked at him then and Louis was surprised to see the tears in his eyes.

 “I’m sorry.” Zayn said as he took Louis’ hand firmly in his own.

 Louis pulled him to his feet and then into short kiss and a hug, “what do you have to be sorry for?”

 Zayn sighed and wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist and buried his face in his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked.

 Zayn just shook his head and Louis could feel him trembling against him and his frown grew more pronounced as worry bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

 Louis guided Zayn to sit on the edge of the table he had previously sat on and Zayn’s knees nearly buckled before he had managed to rest his weight on the table. Louis took his face gently in his own hands and nudged Zayn’s knees apart so that he was stood in between his legs and their chests were only inches from one another.

 Their faces were closer and Louis closed the gap between them, placing the softest of kisses on Zayn’s lips, “talk to me.”

 Tears started to stream down Zayn’s cheeks then but Louis wouldn’t let him look away.

 He wiped Zayn’s tears away with the pads of this thumbs and kissed Zayn again.

 “I don’t know what to do.”

 “About what?” Louis asked even as fear shot through his heart.

 What if Zayn was having doubts about their relationship?

 About Louis?

 He started to pull away but Zayn wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist and pulled him closer, “don’t.”  

 Heat welled in Louis’ chest and spread to the rest of his body despite the cool temperature of the classroom.

 “I love you, you know.” Zayn said, his voice low.

 Louis smiled and the heat flared and grew, “I know. I love you, too.”

 It was the first time they had said the words out loud, even if Louis had been feeling that way for a while now.

 Zayn smiled, too, and for the longest time they just stared into one another’s eyes and Louis found himself glowing in the warmth he saw reflected there.

 “I need to talk to you.”

 “Then talk.” Louis replied, simply.

 “I don’t know what to do.”

 “We’ll work something out.”

 “It’s about Harry and Niall.”

 The smile slipped from Louis’ face when Zayn’s smile became lost in a worried frown.

“What about them?”    

 “Harry raped Niall.”

 “What?” Louis asked and his hands fell away from Zayn’s face.

 “Harry raped Niall.” Zayn repeated.

 Louis stared at him, blankly, and his stomach gave a sickening lurch.

 What was Zayn talking about?

 “When I took Harry to the hospital to see Niall on Thursday, I stayed in the room while they were talking- just in case, you know, I was worried because of Harry’s temper and Niall’s, well, just Niall- and Niall spoke to him, asked him why he was there.”

 Zayn was looking into Louis’ eyes, his words spilling over one another as they burst from his lips, and Louis couldn’t look away.

 He had never seen Zayn so undone.

 “And Harry, you could just see how much he likes Niall and he told him that, too but Niall said… He said that he hadn’t wanted to have sex with Harry but Harry had made him.” Zayn’s breath caught in his throat. “I don’t know what to do. Harry loves Niall, I don’t think he even knows what he did was wrong, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was wrong. And, fuck, Lou, I don’t know what to do.”

 Louis’ eyes were wide with horror by the time that Zayn had stopped speaking and his mouth opened and closed over and over again as he struggled to find something to say.

 He felt ill.

 The world was spinning and bile burned his throat but he barely noticed because Harry had raped Niall.

 Harry had raped Niall.

 He had-.

 Oh, God.

 “What Liam saw, it wasn’t Niall cheating, was it?” Louis asked.

 Zayn shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

 “Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 “What are we going to do?” Zayn asked.

 Louis pulled away from Zayn and stumbled to the wall and leaned back against the cool concrete, letting it support his weight.

 “We need to phone the police.” Louis said.

 “But it’s Harry!” Zayn replied, his voice rising to a shout and Louis knew it was because he was worried and scared for Harry and not because he was angry at Louis’ suggestion. “He probably doesn’t even realise-.”

 “But it was still wrong!” Louis matched Zayn’s volume. “He- he- shit! What about Niall? His whole fucking world has fallen apart and now this?”

 “Harry could end up in jail!”

 Louis rubbed at his face as the reality of the situation started to sink in, “we need to tell the police.”

 “Jail, Louis, jail!” Zayn was on his feet now and he moved to stand in front of Louis and the older man could see indecision warring on his face. “What he did was wrong-.”

 “Wrong? Rape is worse than that and- oh, Jesus! We can’t protect him from this, Zayn, he needs to be punished!”

 “He loves Niall!”

 “It doesn’t change anything!” Louis shouted. “No means no, Harry knows that.”

 “But-.”

 “Harry raped Niall.” Louis said. “He raped him. We have to tell the police.”

 “He what?” A new voice asked and both Louis and Zayn’s heads snapped to the door where a familiar figure was stood.

 “Liam-.” Zayn started but Liam had already bolted from the classroom, fury twisting his face and his whole body shaking with rage.

 “Shit.” Louis swore and he and Zayn locked eyes.

 “He’s going to kill him.”

-

 “Liam!”

 Zayn’s heart thudded painfully in his chest from fear and worry and exertion as he sprinted after Liam but it didn’t matter how quickly he ran, he kept on losing ground.

 Liam was younger, fitter, and was on the school’s athletics team. Zayn wouldn’t have been able to keep up with him even in his prime.

 It didn’t stop him from trying, though.

 Because he knew, he knew, that Liam was going to do something he’d regret.

 He was going to hurt Harry for what he had done to Niall.

 For what he had made Liam think.

 For what he had made Liam do to Niall.

 And Zayn wondered if Liam had worked out the true reason behind his anger yet or if his mind was still stuck on what Harry had done.

 Zayn knew Liam, knew that he was a good kid, a kind and caring person, and he knew how much he loved Niall. It had to hurt him so much to know the truth, that he had punished Niall and pushed him away for something that wasn’t his fault.

 And guilt bubbled in Zayn’s chest because he had known.

 He had known the truth for almost a week now and he had done nothing.

 He hadn’t known what to do.

 He knew about Harry’s history, what he had seen his parents do, and he knew how messed up Harry was.

 That he probably had no idea that what he had done was wrong.

 Zayn didn’t want him to be punished for that but, at the same time, he knew he had to be.

 What Harry had done was terribly and horribly wrong.

 But he loved Niall.

 He had only wanted to show him that.

 That was what had stopped Zayn from phoning the police like he knew he should have, that was what had made him war with himself for the past week, that was what had made him push Louis away.

 He had wanted to protect Harry.

 He had been wrong to do that because Niall was the one that needed protecting.

 He should have never have brought Harry to the hospital.

 Maybe then he would have never have found out. 

Maybe then Harry’s secret could have stayed hidden and Zayn wouldn’t have had to deal with it, spent hours tossing and turning because of it.

 But, that only made him feel guiltier.

 Niall needed him to be strong, to keep him safe, and here he was wishing that he had nothing to do with the whole situation.

 He was a terrible person.

 Louis had been right, he should have just phoned the police and let them sort everything out. They would have made sure that Harry was punished properly and that Niall was kept safe and then Zayn could have told Liam what had happened in a controlled way instead of letting him overhear like that.

Zayn wished he could take back time and stop all of this because Liam was going to do something he wasn’t going to be proud of when he came to his senses and Zayn was too slow, too bloody slow, and he wasn’t going to be able to stop him.

 He had lost sight of Liam but he knew where he’d find him.

 And he was right.

 There was a small crowd of students grouped in front of the entrance to the inclusion room and Zayn could hear the panicked shouts of the staff member in charge of supervising during lunch, calling for help, and he pushed his way into the room.

 Liam had Harry pinned to the floor and was throwing punch after punch at the younger teen as Harry tried to block and hit back.

Zayn didn’t think as he launched himself at the two of them, wrapping arms around Liam’s middle and pulling him away from the fight.

 “NO!” Liam screamed as he struggled. “NO! He- he ra- he  _hurt_  Niall! I have to-!”

 Zayn let out a soft grunt as Liam’s elbow caught him in the chest, “no, you don’t, Liam. You need to calm down.”

 “No! I have to-!”

 It didn’t take long for Harry to pull himself to his feet and try to get at Liam, blood leaking from his nose and anger warping his face into a scowl, but Zayn placed himself between the two, putting a hand on both of their chests and trying to push them apart.

 “Both of you, stop!” He shouted.

 “He hit me!” Harry growled and he lashed out, trying to reach the other boy.

 Then Louis was there and he dragged Harry from the room, whispering things to him that were too quiet for Zayn to hear.

 Harry struggled against Louis and Zayn worried that Louis was going to get hurt but then Louis gave him a tight smile and Zayn knew he’d be okay.

 He turned his attention back to Liam and caught him as his knees gave way.

 “He- he… he raped him.” Liam whispered and then he burst into tears.

 “I know.” Zayn said, letting them sink to the floor, pulling Liam to his chest as he did so. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have phoned the police.”

 “How long have you known?” Liam asked as he clung to Zayn’s shirt.

 “Not long.” Zayn lied. “A couple of days.”

 Liam let out a painful sob, “I didn’t listen.”

 “What?”

 “He tried to tell me and I didn’t listen.”

Zayn didn’t say anything.

 “I thought he was lying. I thought, I thought- oh, God.” Zayn could feel him shaking in his arms. “I called him a whore.”

 “You didn’t know.” Zayn told him.

 “He tried to tell me.”

 “It’s not your fault.”

 “Why didn’t I just listen to him?”

 “Liam, please, don’t do this to yourself. You didn’t know.”

  Liam’s voice cracked as he spoke, “I love him, I love him so fucking much.”

 “I know you do.” Zayn said as he blinked away his own tears. “I know you do.”

-

 Harry knew he had no business being here.

 He knew he should stay well clear.

 He knew that if anyone found out where he’d gone then he’d be in big trouble but he hadn’t been able to stay away.

 He was supposed to be at school still, listening to some lecture from Mr Tomlinson about fighting and getting punished for defending himself, but he had slipped away as soon as Mr Tomlinson had turned his back.

 He had run and run without any destination in mind and his feet had brought him to the hospital.

 To Niall’s room.

 It didn’t even cross his mind that, maybe, Niall wouldn’t want to see him.

 That maybe there had been a reason for Mr Malik dragging him from the room on Thursday.

 That maybe he had been supposed to listen when Mr Malik had told him to never go back.

 But people were always making him do things or listen when they didn’t make sense.

 And none of that made sense.

 Because Mr Malik had treated him like he had done something wrong.

 He hadn’t.

 Yeah, Niall had been a little off with him but he had spoken to Harry and he hadn’t told him to leave.

 He had made feel Harry feel bad, though, when he had said that he had hurt him.

 Harry had never meant to hurt Niall.

 He loved him.

 All he had ever wanted to do was show him that.

 Maybe that was why he was here, to make it up to Niall, to show him he loved him in a way that wouldn’t hurt the other teen.

 Harry couldn’t stand the idea of hurting Niall again.

 Not when he had looked so ill and weak the last time Harry had seen him, like he could have broken him just by touching him.

 Harry hadn’t risked it.

 He wanted to now, though.

 A strange feel had come over him and all he wanted to do was hold Niall and kiss him and touch him and make promises that he’d try to keep.

 He wanted to be a better person for Niall.

 He wanted to keep him safe, he wanted to keep him for his own.

 And Harry wondered if he had hit his head when that sixth former had knocked him to the floor or if his punches had left damage to anything other than his face because he had never had thoughts like these before.

 Never.

 They frightened him as much as they excited him.

 He had never felt just  _so much_ for another person, had never thought it was possible, but now there were all these new feelings running through his body whenever he thought of Niall.

 He wanted to be with Niall like he had never been with anyone else.

 He wanted to have something  _real_ with Niall.

 Something where neither of them hurt.

 And, yeah, maybe he shouldn’t be at the hospital.

Maybe he _had_  to be there.

 Maybe this would be the moment where he’d be able to make everything work.

 He had to try.

 He didn’t knock on the door before entering, he just pushed it open and walked in.

 Niall was alone.

 He was sat on the bed and staring into nothing.

 He didn’t even look in Harry’s direction when he closed the door with a soft  _bang_.

And, suddenly, Harry didn’t know what to do.

 He had been so intent on getting to the hospital, on getting to Niall, that he hadn’t worked out what he was going to say when he actually got there.

 “Niall?” He tried but the blonde didn’t look at him.

Harry frowned.

 Was Niall ignoring him?

 He could feel the familiar stirring of anger in his stomach but he pushed it away.

 He couldn’t let himself get angry.

 “Niall?” He said again.

 Again there was no response.

 He let out a huff of air and pretended the air hadn’t been air at all but anger and he had breathed it out.

 He felt better after that.

 “Niall, it’s Harry. I’ve come to talk to you.”

 Niall didn’t answer and a sudden thought struck Harry.

 Maybe Niall didn’t want to talk, maybe he wasn’t good with words, either.

 Maybe he was waiting for Harry to show him how he felt.

 Harry smiled and he climbed onto the bed next to Niall and wrapped his arms around him and held him close, breathing in the hospital smell that clung to his skin and to his hair.

 “I love you, Niall.” Harry whispered in his ear. “I love you.”

 Then Niall blinked as if he had just woken up from a long sleep and he looked at Harry with wide eyes, his body tensing, “Harry?”

 “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

 “You promise?”

 Harry nodded, “I love you, Niall.”

 “Oh.”

 It wasn’t the reply he had been hoping for and he forced himself to breathe out more anger.

 Again and again.

“Harry?” Niall breathed.

 “Yeah?” Harry said, just as quietly.

 “Can we run away?”

 Harry didn’t miss a beat as he replied, “where do you want to go?”

 “Anywhere.”

“When?”

 “Tonight.”

 “Okay.”

 Then Niall kissed him and Harry thought his heart might explode.

 Niall wanted to run away with him.

 Niall loved him, too.

-

 It had been easier to arrange than he imagined it would be.

 Julie had brought him some clothes from home for when he was supposed to be leave the hospital tomorrow morning and his school backpack so that he could pack away everything he had collected during his hospital stay.

 He left the cards but the bottles of coke and chocolates and sweets that Mr Malik and the others had brought him all went away in the bag.

 He had told Julie he was going to wait until the next morning to take the cards down, that the hospital room would look sad without them and she had smiled at him because he had actually spoken to her instead of staring at her blankly like he normally did.

 He didn’t feel bad for lying to her.

 He didn’t even feel bad for stealing money from her purse when she went to the toilet.

 It was about survival and all Niall wanted to do was survive.

That’s all he had ever wanted.

 But she was trying to take that away from him.

 Her and everyone else.

 Even Liam.

 They said it would help him.

 He knew it wouldn’t.

 How would locking him up help?

 Niall didn’t want to be locked up.

 He wouldn’t be able to survive being locked up.

 It would kill him and he didn’t want to die.

 Not yet.

 And Liam had said that he loved Niall and he would do anything for him but he had said no when Niall had asked if they could run away and that had hurt.

 That had really hurt.

 Because Liam had lied.

 Liam always lied.

 How could he love Niall like he said he did if he wouldn’t run away with him?

 Didn’t he understand that Niall didn’t want to be trapped in some building somewhere, being punished for something he hadn’t done?

 The idea made him feel sick.

 He couldn’t let himself get locked up, he couldn’t.

 He needed to be able to get out, to go for his walks, to work through things the only way he knew how.

 He needed that and they were going to take it away from him.

 They were going to take it away.

 Take it.

 He had needed to do something.

 And then Harry had been there and he had said that he loved Niall, too.

 And Niall knew he did because when he had asked Harry about running away the other teen had agreed.

 He didn’t ask why or for how long, just said yes.

 That was love.

 Harry loved him.

 Maybe he had hurt him in the past and maybe he’d hurt him in the future but Niall was willing to go through that a million times if he could just escape being locked up.

 He needed Harry.

 He was too weak to run away alone.

 Physically, mentally…

 He knew he wouldn’t get far.

 He needed someone to keep him safe, to keep him hidden, and away from  _them_.

 And Harry had said yes.

 He’d said yes where Liam had said no and Niall knew that was true love.

 And, perhaps, he didn’t love Harry but he’d do everything he could to keep Harry happy if that meant that Harry would stay with him and protect him when he couldn’t protect himself.

 His heart hurt as he snuck out of his hospital room and down the corridor just as visiting time ended and he tried not to think of Liam.

 Because Liam had lied.

 Liam didn’t love him.

  It didn’t stop Niall from loving Liam, though.

 He had hoped that Liam’d say yes.

 He didn’t and now he was never going to see Liam again.

 He was never going to see anyone from his life in this town again.

 Not Julie or Dan or any of the kids from school.

 Not Mr Malik or Mr Tomlinson, either, and that made him sad.

 They had all been so kind to him but he hoped they’d understand.

 He couldn’t be locked away, he just couldn’t. 

That’s why he had to run away.

 It was cold outside but Harry was waiting for him by the entrance like he said he would be.

He smiled at Niall and Niall forced himself to smile back.

 “Have you got everything?” Harry asked as he adjusted his own backpack of clothes and food on his shoulders.

 Niall nodded.

 “Let’s go then.”

 Together they walked into the freezing and dark December night and, when Harry held out a hand, Niall took it and let Harry tangle their fingers together.

 Harry’s skin felt warm against his own.

 Niall told himself it was about survival.

 He was going to survive.


End file.
